


Never shined through

by Serinah



Category: Marvel, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Angst and Porn, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Chastity Device, Loss of Agency, M/M, Medical Kink, Not between Steve and Tony, Past Abuse, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Feels, Tony-centric, less smutty than it sounds probably, mention of rape, messy dynamics, not trying to normalize it, regaining agency, slavery is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah
Summary: Tony has just been sold on. He's been a trained entertainment provider for almost twenty years; he knows what to expect. The only things he hopes for are manageable levels of pain, and access to the internet.Captain Steve Rogers is not what Tony expected, nor does he have what Tony hoped for.





	1. New blood joins this earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [athletiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger/gifts).

> The rape and non-con are not between Steve and Tony, but the fact that there is an owner-dependent relationship makes it a bit iffy. Also, neither of them enjoys the power relations (especially the chastity device), so this story is a bit different for me. It's not about negotiation for the best s/D situation, it's the struggle to get out of the situation. So even though the story starts quite smutty, it will develop plot and other not so sexy parts throughout the next two chapters. So if you are after straight-up porn, this is not the story for you. If unequal sexual relations are triggering, then I also strongly suggest to read with caution or give it a miss.  
If you end up unhappy with how the story progresses and you strongly feel that you want to tell me, please be respectful and I'll reply with the same.  
If you think there's a warning missing, let me know and I'll be happy add.
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
> 
> All titles are from The Unforgiven by Metallica, because this is an awesome song and all the lyrics are just a goldmine.
> 
> ***The Casual Cheesecake*** worked out what SHIELD was: Situational Help and Integration for Egalitarian Legislative Dependency.  
Thank you so much!!
> 
> ***Mizzy*** TY for the idea with the Triskelion. It's my headcanon now. :)
> 
> Thank you ***Athletiger*** You know what you did! ILY 3K!
> 
> ***Loran****, your insights are always so much down to Earth, I don't know if I even can write without having your input anymore. I might be addicted. *cringe*  
You're the BEST! <3 <3 <3

Even after so many years, Tony still hadn't gotten over his dislike of being on time, because then he was the one who would have to wait. That was not something he'd grown up with but after Obie's betrayal, being late wasn't mostly worth it.

Today, to his surprise, when he arrived, he was ushered in directly-

Ah. There’s the reason. Captain Steve Rogers, his new_ Owner_, was already present and accounted for. Tony ignored the relentless churning in his gut. He'd met the man only briefly last night and his general attractiveness was activating all the alarm bells Tony's spider-sense was capable of. Fair complexion, light eyes, build of a Greek god. Rich, handsome and in the military? Why would he be? If anything spelled psychopath, then this did. If Tony was lucky he'd only have an awful temper and an embarrassing kink of some kind. The only thing Tony knew was that his Owner had requested his presence at the doctor's office after which he'd be given further instructions.

“Dr Sanders. Captain.” He nodded to both and stepped forward into the room.

"Edwards," the doctor greeted him back.

The Owner gave him a jerky nod but didn't say anything, so taking his cue, Tony didn’t look at him while answering the doctor's preliminary questions either.

“I’ve already spoken to Captain Rogers about the most important safety precautions," Sanders said, "including the hygienic procedures you ought to conduct yourself.”

Tony nodded cordially. “Of course.” He was sure that one of those ‘procedures’ was the bi-monthly enema that all subs were unofficially required to do. Well, Tony hadn’t taken any in years, and no one had seen any need to check, so he knew that it was just one of those things that had born into existence for one, and one reason only: independents’ asserting their dominance over what their slaves did. He said none of that though, just agreed politely to everything he would quietly keep ignoring.

As the visit progressed, Tony became more and more disgruntled. Rogers was, to put it politely, not engaged. Even Dr. Sanders had started to send him confused looks, but Tony wasn’t confused. His Owner didn’t want to deal with his new property and wasn’t polite enough to hide it. Fine. Wouldn't be the first time.

“So, shall we get it over with?” the doc said, and once more Roger barely reacted. Tony was holding onto the dregs of his congenial expression. He'd probably be the house entertainment for the captain's military buddies then.

Fine. In a way, it would be even easier.

_ More difficult to get a hold of a computer, _ a voice at the back of his head whispered.

The doctor stood. “You can undress behind the screen.” He gestured to the ridiculous partition that was supposed to shield him from the rest of the room but in reality, was barely high enough to cover his nipples. Tony stepped behind the screen and turned his back to the independents who were still sitting and politely ignoring Tony. Not that it would matter in a couple of minutes anyway.

He pulled the paper-thin gown on and tied it behind his neck which left it flapping open at his back. Then, removing his underwear, he schooled his features into blankness and walked out from behind the screen.

“Very good, Edwards,” the doctor said approvingly as if Tony had performed a good trick. “Would you please lie down here?”

Tony had no idea why they wouldn't want him straight in the stirrups, but it wasn't as if he could refuse, so obediently, he hopped on the exam table and laid on his back.

“Shall I…” Dr. Sanders said, turning expectantly at the captain. “Or do you want to…?”

There was a brief pause during which Tony just stared at the ceiling, cursing himself at his gut tightening, his cock trying to fill as if it thought there was going to be something good happening soon. Stupid thing.

“Very well, Captain,” Dr. Sanders cleared his throat awkwardly. “Would you mind coming closer though?”

Great. Not only was his Owner reluctant to touch him, apparently, he didn't even want to see whatever the doc wanted to show him. Considering how the visit had been progressing thus far, the feeling of a let-down was entirely unwarranted. Still, the upside was that the physical sign of his enjoyment instantly soured; his cock settled and a bitter embarrassment took its place. Tony wished he could simply get up and leave but even if he could, that would also mean getting dressed behind the flimsy partition again. Not that there was any saving his dignity anyway.

His musings were rudely interrupted a moment later when with zero forewarnings, the edge of Tony’s gown was suddenly lifted.

“Have a look, Captain. Here, that's what I meant by modern chastity devices being so much more comfortable. See this?” He took Tony's cock between his index and middle fingers and pulled it to the right. Tony grit his teeth but Sanders went on without taking any notice. “The ring around the penis and testicles is narrow but strong, unbending. Metal alloys nowadays are very light and impervious to rust."

Why was he even talking about it? Surely his Owner knew all that? Unless he wasn't really into cages. But why would he then buy a slave with such restriction? In the meanwhile, the doc droned on.

"They don't cause allergic reactions either. The edges here are smooth—” His finger trailed along the metal and Tony had to suppress a disgusted shudder. “—do you want to check for yourself?”

His disgust turned to something else entirely though, the moment there were larger fingers touching the metal along a curve of his shaved balls. Tony made himself go still as his Owner touched him for the first time. Damn his conditioning. Tony felt himself flush.

Captain Rogers took his cock and moved it from side to side to inspect the ring around his package.

To his horror, Tony felt like bucking up and it was definitely too early for that kind of a reaction. Thank Tesla, he managed to keep still.

“And do you see this connection to the cage itself?” Dr. Sander went on, ignoring the predicament Tony was in, “Very snug. The rings here are a tight fit—Edwards's directives decree that an accidental ejaculation be not possible, but just in case I also chose the model with a sounding option. See that thing here? If you insert the sound, this is where you can fasten it.”

Tony’s cock was aching now. Rogers, the bastard, was still holding it by the rings, not actually touching the skin, but it wasn’t making anything better; Tony had to force himself to lie still and take deep, calming breaths.

“What about the lock? Is it safe? He can’t get it open by himself?”

This was the first time Tony heard his Owner’s voice after the greeting and for some moronic reason, the sound of it made Tony’s cock throb. Tony wasn’t sure, but maybe the Owner felt it somehow because suddenly he let go and the cock flopped back into the position it was before. Tony gritted his teeth in humiliation.

“It's as secure as it can be. The lock is mechanical, but in Edward’s case, it’s for the best. He’s noted to be rather lucky with all sorts of technology and he could probably open any digital lock with his Owner none the wiser since it’s relatively easy to go online nowadays. I’m sorry to say that Edwards has a history of doing that without his Owner’s permission - not in recent years,” he hastened to add. “I assure you! It’s all documented, you can check for yourself!”

“And the mechanical one is better?” Rogers inquired with a tone that implied intimate knowledge of breaking rules on the regular. Tony almost smiled.

“Only in the way that if he forces the lock, you will know.” Tony could hear an oily smile in his tone. “But he hasn’t in years; he’s been to several retraining programs since. You should be perfectly safe.”

There was a disapproving grunt from the Owner and Tony surmised that the captain would be dispersing punishment personally. Great.

But the truth was that he was nowadays very careful with any infractions - should there be even a short note about Tony not following the rules set upon him, he might be stuck with the cage permanently. Although these days, he didn’t even know what it would be like to be without one, and in truth, it didn't matter. His one and only goal was to finish coding the AI who’d then work independently to create Tony a new identity with a digital footprint that would go back years so that he could remove the chip and just vanish into the wind. Possibly to Europe, but maybe farther still.

Currently, Captain Rogers’s angry-looking face didn’t seem to indicate an easy-going temper nor light punishment. His heart pounding, cock hard with adrenalin, Tony took a determined calculated breath. Well, hopefully, the man would be easily out-smarted. Many military folks were.

“You can get up now, Edwards,” Sanders said.

Decorum dictated that Tony thank him, but he couldn’t; his mouth was dry, so instead he simply nodded and got up. He wished he could just squeeze his balls to make his stubborn arousal go away, but there was no way he'd give himself away like this. Not looking at either independent, he stood and waited for further instructions.

“I...” For some reason, Captain Rogers had to clear his throat and for the first time, Tony thought that maybe his Owner’s reluctance was more to do with an unwilling arousal, not indifference. “I have a question.”

“Yes, Captain?” Dr Sanders asked encouragingly.

Visibly steeling himself as if going into battle, the Owner said. “What’s the purpose of the sounding?”

_ What? _

Sanders didn't even blink. “Medically speaking,” he said, “it’s for checking if there’s an obstruction.” He turned to Tony. “Tell me, Edwards, the last time you orgasmed, did everything go smoothly? No pain, no delay?” Dr Sanders asked, sounding all professional as if asking how his cough was.

“I have no problems orgasming.” _ When I get the chance. _

“That’s good,” the doctor said and turned towards his desk for a moment, leaving Tony standing face to face with his suddenly blushing, stoney-faced Owner.

With an effort, Tony didn’t grimace. The resentment over being once more such an obvious burden to his Owner, settled. He much preferred to be admired and doted on, even if it was for his looks and skills in bed not because could outcode even the best independents in IT. The fact was that the Owners who liked him were more easily manipulated.

“And the last time you orgasmed…?” Sanders relentlessly continued with the topic.

Tony _ hated _the man now. “Two weeks ago, as mandated.”

“I understand you orgasm once a month? That's not really that much, is it?”

_ He makes it sound as if I have a choice. _Nevertheless, Tony nodded. “That’s right.”

“What about in between? Do you ever experience night emissions, orgasm-like spasms with some leakage? Things like that?”

“Not that I noticed,” Tony replied woodenly. He knew he was starting to sound slightly belligerent. He was over thirty, for fuck’s sake!

Sanders hummed. “What about leaking precum as a reaction to visual stimuli - does that happen?”

“Not really.” Tony’s reply was curt; just hoping to shut the medical idiot up. Because he wasn’t telling them how he’d been leaking on and off for the whole damn past week.

“That’s… not very good…” Sanders looked at Rogers. “We should probably check if there’s an obstruction. Just in case.”

Tony’s head snaps up. “Is that likely?” he said in a less than polite tone, but thankfully the doctor ignored it and so did Rogers.

“There’s a good chance of the obstruction if Edwards has not had pre-cum excess at all,” he tells the Owner as if Tony had spoken out of turn. He paused meaningfully, then turned to look at Captain Rogers's stoic face. “Do we check it, Captain? Could be good practice for you too, if you ever decide to plug him with a sound later?”

Self-preservation instinct be damned, Tony opened his mouth, but Rogers beat him to it.

“Alright.”

_ Shit. _

And neither man even looked at Tony. Well, why would they?

“Would you, please, step this way, Edwards.”

For a moment, Tony couldn’t even move, but the pinched expression on his Owner’s face made his feet work and soon, he was sitting in that thrice hated stirrupped chair with his legs up and open and the short sheet that was supposed to cover his privates, folded back. Pretending nonchalance, he wanted to put his arms on the armrests but discovered that this particular model didn’t have them. Of course. He put his hands down and held onto the seat. His nostrils flared and surreptitiously he glanced at his Owner but had to look away the next moment; the captain's face was serious, severe in his dedication to _ learn sounding _, or maybe he was just ‘concerned’ for his sub’s urethra, who knew?

“Alright, let’s see then,” the doc said and nodded at Rogers. “You can remove the cage now.”

Tony's insides started shaking. Rogers, on the other hand, didn’t move for the next three, painfully long seconds. Then, his hand disappeared into the inner pocket of his jacket and the keys that Tony equally loved and hated, came out.

Then the long, strong fingers were at his cock and a ‘click’ told Tony that the lock was opened. Tony couldn’t look away as the cage was pulled off and his poor cock flopped out. The speed with which his cock started filling out was humiliating and Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from it. Despite the humiliation, the pleasure that pooled into his stomach quickly spread throughout his body. Tony hadn’t felt so aroused in _ months. _ It was fantastic and it was devastating because it wasn't supposed to feel this good; he was sitting naked, with his legs open like a slut, in the company of two clothed men while discussing a medical procedure. It was supposed to be a routine examination and Tony’s cock was being an idiot at its fullest now, and _ god _ , how he needed to touch himself. Or better yet, for his gorgeous Owner to touch him. _ Please. _

“Aha! There’s the precome,” Sanders said, interrupting Tony's thoughts.

Tony's cock twitched, Rogers made a guttural noise and in his embarrassment, Tony was ready to melt through the floorboards into the hell that was undoubtedly waiting for him anyway.

“So there’s probably no obstruction?”

It was humiliating, how relieved Captain Rogers seemed at the prospect of not having to touch Tony.

“Highly unlikely,” Sanders confirmed. “But perhaps you should still practice. I understand that it’s your first indentured after a long gap?”

That was interesting. How long of a gap was it that the doctor decided to mention it, the captain was barely thirty. Had he really not even have a valet?

“There are definitely safety procedures to take into account,” Doctor Sanders said. “Maybe a crash course…?”

And Tony had just opened his mouth to snipe that if it’s been a while, then they’ve come a long way since ‘turn and cough’, but the course was really unnecessary, thank you very much. However, Rogers beat him to it with: “Yeah, I heard that turn and cough wasn’t the way anymore.”

Tony was stunned into silence and Dr Sanders, the idiot, clearly not realizing that Rogers was joking, laughed awkwardly. There was a two-second pause that the doctor then ‘saved’ them from by continuing, “See this?” The bastard lifted Tony’s hard, leaking cock away from his belly. “A perfect penis, with beautiful healthy glans and a perfectly natural response to being unrestricted after lengthy confinement.” Still holding onto Tony’s cock, Sanders hummed thoughtfully. “Quite a feat, frankly. Over the years, most caged indentured lose the ability to get an erection with such ease. If you want to discourage that I suggest a spiked cage for a couple of years coupled with just prostate milkings or a simpler, chemical solution if you prefer.”

Frozen in horror, Tony glanced at his Owner to see his reaction, but thankfully the open revulsion on the captain’s face quickly dispelled all of his fears.

“That will not be necessary,” Rogers said. “Erections are… Um. Good.”

The doctor nodded in acknowledgement and let go of Tony’s cock which plopped back onto his belly, not having yet started to shrink from the horrific suggestions.

“Excellent,” the doctor exclaimed. “Then perhaps you want to feel it for yourself, Captain?” he was talking as if Rogers was a virgin and that for some reason made Tony bristle on his Owner's behalf. However, a second later he was bristling in the exact opposite way because Captain Rogers’s answer to the suggestion was a strangled ‘no’.

The doctor tsked. “He’s yours, Captain Rogers, surely you want to know how to take care of him?”

Tony very much wanted to protest that no, no he was good, thank you very much, but the doctor kept coaxing Rogers with, “Come now, Captain, don’t be shy!” and a long moment later, awkwardly, the Owner shuffled closer.

Gingerly, as if afraid to catch something, his Owner lifted Tony’s cock and then suddenly, his fingers were encircling it; holding it almost too tightly and closing his eyes, Tony was trembling, his breath stuttering.

“There!” Sanders crowed as if he had personally achieved something. “Doesn’t it feel wonderful? Do you want to try and edge him?”

Tony’s eyes bugged out as Rogers’s hand obediently started pumping him, almost as if out of its own volition and for a moment, their eyes met, both startled and aroused.

As if burned, Rogers let his cock go and stepped back. He cleared his throat and said stiffly, “I’d prefer to move this along.”

Fantastic. Now that his Owner was confronted with his own arousal, all he wanted was to get this visit over with. What was he - a religious extremist? A purist of some sort? A secret resistance supporter? But then why would he even purchase a pleasure slave in the first place?

“Yes! Yes, of course,” the doctor agreed already rushing to get everything ready. “We should probably get it flaccid first, then I can show you how to fix the sound to the cage-”

“Won’t it be painful if while milking, he starts getting hard with the sound in?” The captain almost sounded disapproving, but that couldn’t be right, because what did he care if his property felt pain? Wasn’t that the aim, half the time? It didn’t seem to be this time since the doctor paused in straightening out his equipment and stared at the captain.

“Well… yes,” he agreed. “So, you don’t want him… Oh, alright! That’s fine, we can-”

“If we cage him with a sound, then take it out for milking, we’ll be here all day,” his Owner said now in a clearly disapproving way and despite his tone implying impatience, Tony’s stupid cock interpreted it as care and twitched in pleasure. “I’d prefer not to do that, Dr. Sanders.”

Of course. Tony held in a grimace. Couldn’t spare too much time on his property, could he?

“Yes, yes, you're quite right,” Sanders agreed quickly while taking a plastic-covered tray out from a cupboard.

“What is this?”

“Speculum.” Sanders lifted the thing to show Rogers. “It’s used for-”

“I know what it’s used for.”

Deflating, the doctor put the thing away, got out the lube bottle and the procedure went underway. Tony had never enjoyed speculums, but over the years, he’d gotten used to them and generally, they weren’t used to hurt. However, it had just been a short amount of time that he’d been gotten off only once a month and his body wasn’t accustomed to that yet, so after two weeks of the cage, it was now desperately throbbing and leaking, and there were lubed fingers at the opening; sliding past, massaging, rubbing, coaxing for him to open. Tony knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to orgasm today and the thought was maddening.

Maybe if things got exciting enough and his Owner liked it, Tony could ask him for permission to come? He would hate for his doc to be there, but… Dammit, the fingers were_ inside _ now, probing, moving and just… there.

His own fingers impotently tight on the edge of his seat, Tony bit off a keen.

The doctor was still patiently explaining everything to the captain and - oh god! Captain Rogers’s fingers were now at his ass hole-

“You can push them in,” Sanders said, “he’s quite ready. Yes, very good, Captain. A little bit more...”

Now Tony did make an actual noise. Still gripping his seat, he was telling himself he wasn’t going to come, he couldn’t, dammit, no… please-

“That is enough, Captain. Now take this.”

Tony almost sobbed at the loss of contact. The doctor handed the stupid torture implement to the Owner and-

“Now just put the tip in and gently… yes, just like that. Don’t worry, Edwards is quite used to it by now, he won’t mind a little pain-”

Tony grit his teeth, but he wasn’t even sure if it was for the dismissive words or the sensation. He was in no pain thankfully; his Owner was clearly unaccustomed to using the speculum, but he was very careful, maybe even too much. Soon though, the thing was in and fixed and Tony snuck a peek at the captain.

The man’s face was flushed, his eyes burning intently in what looked like barely controlled aggression and he was gritting his teeth.

_ Fuck. _

He’d had such Owners (and their friends) before that got angry for being ‘forced’ to experience arousal towards the same sex or even just ‘the unworthy’. It never ended well for the unlucky object of their attention. The corners of his mouth drooping involuntarily, Tony’s arousal now felt forced, but still there, unrelenting.

“Very good,” the doctor continued in a soothing voice as if he’d also noticed that the veneer of calm over the situation was about to disintegrate with an explosion. “Now the next part is a bit of a wet business, some Owners prefer to use surgical gloves if there are nails or jewellery, but Edwards is yours, so basically you can do whatever you want-”

The captain growled and Sanders startled into silence.

“Out.”

“I’m sorry, Captain?” That Sanders sounded bewildered, which didn’t bode well.

The Owner was very obviously livid. With his eyes, Tony tried pleading for the doctor not to go, but of course, neither Tony’s or doc’s preferences mattered. Only the richest and the most powerful people could afford Tony, so whatever Captain Rogers said, would happen.

“I said, out.” The captain’s voice was tight but controlled. It was impossible to gauge if he was about to blow the lid or if he would be able to hold on.

Sanders looked at them both for a second more, but then predictably, nodded, said something about being just outside and left.

In the silence that followed, Tony was sure he would hear a pin drop, never mind the blood rushing in his ears. He stared at his Owner, ready for anything. Then, Captain Rogers exhaled, raised his eyes to Tony’s and said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Well. That was mildly encouraging. Tony let out the breath he was holding. He knew better than to take the man’s word for it, but at least he wasn’t _ planning _ to hurt him-

‘Cause, yeah, that always ended well.

“Good,” he said, then clamped his mouth shut, because he was supposed to keep his preferences to himself unless specifically asked, but he was notoriously bad at that. Thankfully, the Owner just nodded and stepped closer again.

“You’ll have to tell me if I do something wrong,” Rogers said.

“Of course, Captain,” Tony agreed calmly.

The independent looked him in the eye. “I mean it. I’ve never done it before, but I don’t want to hurt you. I'm sorry about the doc, but all the gentle encouragement was driving me nuts.”

Sanders is a quack, Tony almost agreed but caught it in time.

The quiet stretched out, the tension racketing. Tony almost wasn’t breathing by the time Rogers shook his head, purposefully relaxed his posture and inserted first one, then another finger.

“Is this okay?”

He sounded mean. Tony wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or because he actually was mean, but in either case, there was just one correct answer.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Steve.” Less mean, still unfriendly.

Tony looked up, startled. “What?”

“Call me Steve,” the Owner - Steve - said and hit his prostate.

Tony jerked and instantly, Roger- Steve’s fingers withdrew.

“I’m sorry, was that…?”

“Yeah,” Tony said hoarsely. 

For a tense moment, his Owner stared at the hole and put the fingers in again. Tony stifled a groan.

“Tell me how I’m doing,” Captain Rogers said.

How he was doing? With what? Was Tony supposed to-

“Ungh,” he made and before being asked, went on, “That was it, the right spot. Feels good.” He thought if he should beg now, but the captain just nodded and for a second, pressed and just _ held _.

“Oh god,” Tony mumbled, trying not to whimper. He wasn’t allowed to come for another two weeks. He knew that. But maybe…?

The fingers started moving but this time they were… gentle and Tony was panting. He wished they’d have forgone the speculum so that his Owner would massage the rim too but pleasure without pain was nothing to sneeze at, so Tony breathed deeply and tried not to come. He wanted to shut his eyes and enjoy the moment, but his self-preservation instinct dictated that he check for his Owner’s mood. Their eyes met and held. The cap-

Rogers… Steve didn’t look at all angry now. His eyes were now burning with barely suppressed excitement and there was a crease of worry between his eyebrows.

“That’s it,” Tony found himself saying between pants. “This is good. Yes. Just like… god.” The pleasurable electricity that had ignited his prostate was suddenly like an open wound, but _ good._ The sensation was spreading all over his body and it was becoming a challenge to just sit there; Tony wanted to sprawl out, let go, or get on his knees and worship his- Steve.

It was like a dam breaking and Tony was shaking apart, his cock spurting, his eyes closed and mouth open.

It might have lasted a second or minute or ten (probably not that much), but slowly the fog of pleasure had started dissipating and Tony thought vaguely that he should be worried about something.

Someone was speaking softly. Encouragement and praise; he hadn’t heard that in a while and tried to remember what he’d done to deserve it.

That’s when he remembered what had actually happened and jolted upwards, ready to apologize for coming without permission, but the expression on the Owner’s face was so content and light that all Tony’s worries evaporated.

Steve flashed him a smile and Tony’s breath caught.

“Feeling alright?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.” Belatedly, Tony realized that he should’ve tagged a honorific, but the moment passed and it seemed that his Owner didn’t care.

Carefully, Rogers removed the speculum and cleaned him up with some not so soft tissues. He did it gently, though, so Tony didn’t mind. Then, of course, the cage was back on and Tony swallowed back his ever-present, even though unwarranted, disappointment. He’d known it was going to be put back on, it probably would be for several more years, but that didn’t mean that Tony had to like it. Even though it felt less like a literal cage and more like a natural handicap now. Just a part of him, like a limp or blindness. A resented part that he had to live with.

“Are there any actual medical issues that the doc should see you for?” his Owner asked.

Tony frowned. “No, why would there be?”

The captain shrugged. “I don’t know. Feels silly to have dragged us both to the doctor because of something that’s apparently entirely instinctual. I don’t think we even need a speculum for this.”

Mutely, Tony nodded and stood, as his Owner reached out to help him up.

Rogers paused on their way to the dressing partition. “Unless you prefer to use it?”

Tony stared back at him, astonished. “No. Not at all.”

“Good. Then we won’t.” Captain Rogers seemed relieved. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story will probably not have a great readership, but I'll love each and every one of you if you let me know how you liked it. Feedback helps me write.  
Thank you! <3


	2. And quickly he’s subdued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The high of the first sexual encounter behind them, let's see how our characters cope with a dose of domestic life? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone that's been reading and especially those that left me feedback! I was really blown away by the reception!  
*hugs* <3
> 
> (I fixed a lot more typos from ch 1 than usually. Loran and athletiger helped me with this one, so I really hope it's better this time.)

His Owner had a car with a government license plate and a driver who was possibly also a bodyguard. It was not unusual for Tony’s Owners to have ties to the government, but a captain seemed to be too low a rank for that. Everything seemed slightly off about him, but only by such a small margin that it could have been unimportant. Except for the strange feeling Tony had about it.

“Do you need to go back to…?”

Tony startled. “Displacement housing? No. Why?”

Rogers shrugged. “I don’t know. To get your things?”

“No, I was told to take everything with me.”

For a moment the captain’s eyes slid over Tony’s form and his one backpack, but he didn’t say anything.

Tony wondered if the captain would have a separate suite or a room for him, or if he would like Tony to go naked all the time, servicing his army buddies. Somehow, that didn’t seem likely. On the other hand, it also seemed unlikely that Rogers would want him in the first place, but he did purchase a sex slave for _ something, _ so....

Captain Steve Rogers lived in a medium-sized townhouse which was a surprise but not nearly as big as what was inside. In short, it was nice, technologically up to date and… rather homey. Going by the decor it didn't even look like the captain could have afforded him in the first place. Tony frowned as he stood in the middle of the living room with his backpack dangling from his fingers.

“Your room’s through there,” the Owner said, gesturing to the left of the living room. (Captain Rogers called it the living room, not sitting room or the lounge.) “You’ve got an adjacent bathroom there. And that’s the kitchen. If you need anything, let me know.” 

That was a dismissal if Tony ever heard one, so he thanked Captain Rogers and went to find his room.

Like the rest of the house, his room was spacious and comfortable, but it was not even close to what Tony was used to. But that was the farthest from his worries; he’d live in a shack if it meant he could have something he could code on, but so far, the only electronic devices he'd seen in the apartment were a security panel and the huge TV in the living room.

Tony put his backpack on the floor, sat on his bed, and stared at the wall.

Well, shit.

In about an hour, there was a knock.

“Come in,” Tony said absently, not bothering to get up from his bed. He flipped the page.

“Tony.”

Tony still leaped off the bed, dropping the book in the process. “I’m so sorry, sir, I-”

“That’s okay, don’t apologize,” this Owner said, but his face had lost its friendliness and was now a mask of indifference with an edge of annoyance. “I’m sorry for startling you.”

Sorry. Right. Tony blindly grasped in his head for reasons and excuses. “I just thought it was a cleaner,” he tried. “Or someone.” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Captain Rogers blinked and looked around the room. “Do you require a cleaner’s services? I didn’t realize.”

“No, it’s… No, it’s OK, Sir.”

“Captain.”

“Sorry, si-? Oh.”

“I prefer captain over sir, if you want to use honorifics.”

If I want to…?

At a loss for words, Tony kept quiet.

It was getting awkward. Apparently mentioning cleaners was the wrong thing to do, but apologizing for it seemed even weirder. Tony had no idea what he should be apologizing for, only sure that he should do _ something_.

The decision was taken out of his hands when Owner said, “Dinner’s ready. Would you like to…?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Captain. I’m ready.” Quickly, he scrambled to put the book on the bed and follow his Owner. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should’ve checked when he was supposed to come out, not let himself be fetched like royalty. Fuck.

He already felt foolish, but when he arrived at the kitchen, there were two places set, and he felt even more confused. Where they having a guest over? Also, there was no obvious place for him at the table, not a pillow or a mat on the floor. Standing or kneeling on the hard floor? Or maybe he was supposed to serve?

Fuck, he had no idea.

Hastily, he almost took a step towards the cooker, but the Owner was already there, putting the food on the plates and then carrying them to the dining table.

“Tony?” He appeared to just have noticed Tony standing awkwardly halfway to any point in the kitchen. “Would you like to sit down?”

Was that… a question? An order? Before he could decide, his feet were already moving, ready to obey any suggestion made by an independent. While sitting his butt down, his mind panicked for a bit. Had he misunderstood? Was he being presumptuous?

The captain expected Tony to sit at the same table with him.

Schooling his face not to give away his shock as Captain Rogers just sat down across from him, Tony mechanically ate everything put on his plate even though it tasted like cardboard and swallowing was difficult. There was no small talk, no interrogation but Tony didn’t dare to look up from his food.

“Can I be excused, sir?” he asked as soon as he finished.

His Owner’s lips hardened and Tony readied for the worst.

“Sure,” Captain Rogers said a little bit too loudly. “No problem.”

Tony fled.

Oh god.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god.

_ Sure. No problem. _ He’d sounded… Tony wasn’t sure, but he sure as hell hadn’t sounded happy.

Oh god, he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up and he had no idea how.

Over the course of the evening it became clear that there were no other dependents to even come in during the day. No chef and no butler? Would Rogers expect Tony to clean and cook? Or maybe the captain rented a cleaner a couple of times a week? Ordered the food in?

Soon he found out that the food was delivered half the time and half of the time the captain _ cooked._ He _ asked _ what food Tony preferred and he knocked before he entered Tony's room. And as if that was not enough, he did the cleaning himself, too.

Had he invested all his money in a pleasure slave? Why would he? Three days in, the Owner still hadn’t even as much as touched him. Did he have performance anxiety? Should Tony make the first step?

No, being proactive almost always was a bad move.

When the knock happened on the second day, Tony jumped up immediately and was ready to move by the time the door opened. Dreading that breakfast would be the same tense affair he breathed easier when the captain ushered him into the kitchen and left him to it.

Not even believing what he was doing, for the first time in his life, Tony washed up after himself.

The day itself was quiet. Basically he was sitting in his room, not sure what to do but read. It seemed that his new Owner didn’t need anything from Tony and if not for the puzzle that the captain presented, Tony would have been bored to death. Instead, he was filled with vague anxiety and that had to be better, right?

It didn’t feel better. Or was it just the horny that made his skin a live wire?

Usually, unless his Owners were displaying signs of immediate interest, his cock was used to stay dormant, but this time, Captain Steve Rogers's disinterest did nothing to quail the ever-present thrum of oversensitivity of his whole body. Tony didn’t appreciate the feeling at all and it seemed that no book (_You can always borrow more from the living room if you want._) was going to be interesting enough to kill off his buzz entirely.

On the third day of his stay, Captain Rogers took him clothes shopping. To his relief, Tony was directed to ride at the back and when he kept walking half a step behind his Owner, there were no objections. The familiarity of protocol was grounding and Tony breathed easier because Captain Rogers’s strange notions of Owner-dependent interactions were giving Tony stress headaches.

“Take anything you need,” the captain had said when they entered a regular mall.

“Thank you, sir,” Tony had replied, his eyes flitting between the racks with premade clothes in different sizes.

Women’s on the left, a smaller section for men on the right. Okay.

Rogers was still standing at the entrance as if waiting for something so Tony stepped forth and started walking down a random aisle looking around himself in confusion. On rare occasions that Tony had been told to choose items of clothing it meant luxury pieces in an exclusive boutique and the clothes that Tony ‘wanted’ were actually things that his Owners would love to see on him, so it always involved a bit of playful demonstration of various things that the shop assistants offered and gauging the Owners reaction. Here, when Tony lifted a shirt up and glanced at the captain, he was just staring at his phone with a closed-off expression on his face.

Not interested.

Okay. Well, it wasn’t as if these clothes were much to look at anyway.

After the third try at engaging the captain, Tony felt his temper rise. What was Rogers’s problem anyway? Why did he even buy a high-end pleasure slave if he was making him wear rags? Gritting his teeth, Tony chose several ratty T-shirts with what looked like rock group names and idiotic slogans, tattered jeans, one of them with studs and the ugliest pairs of boxers there were.

“I’ve finished,” he said lifting the neon green shirt with ‘I’m with stupid’ and an arrow to the left.

The captain blinked at it and then at Tony. His lips did a weird wobble and instantly, Tony felt as if he’d just kicked a puppy.

“Good,” Rogers had said almost in a whisper as if talking to himself and strode purposefully towards the cashier.

Blushing, Tony discarded the stupid neon shirt, but it was too late. Rogers never even looked what shirts ended up packed into the bags.

When the credit card was whipped out and payment made, Tony reached out for the bags, but Rogers just grabbed them and marched off, leaving the gaping cashier and Tony in the dust.

That was the point where Tony had started thinking of acceptable ways of groveling because there was a muscle in the captain’s jaw that had begun ticking ominously.

Once, Tony used to have an Owner who only forgave him when he prostrated himself and begged in a loud voice or kneeled in public before him. Tony didn't know what type Rogers was exactly, but somehow he had an inkling that neither option would work with him. Corporal punishment? Should Tony start apologizing now or wait until they were home? Some Owners demanded silence until addressed.

Keeping quiet for the whole damned drive back was torture and in the end, Tony didn’t even need to address the issue.

“Take the bags and go in,” Captain Rogers said after stopping the car in front of his house.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going for a ride,” the captain added somewhat redundantly when Tony was already halfway out of the car.

Awkwardly, Tony stopped, with one leg on the pavement and the other still dangling inside the car. “Yes, sir.”

There was a pause, but then Tony realized that he was keeping his Owner, almost jumped (stumbled) out and opened the back door to get his things.

“Tony.”

It was only now that Tony realized how polite his new Owner had thus far been since it was the first time that he didn’t hear a question mark behind his name.

“Yes, sir?”

“Captain.”

For a second, something quivered inside Tony in anticipation. “Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”

Rogers sighed. “Steve,” he said.

“Pardon, Captain?”

“Call me Steve.”

His sigh, Tony habitually held in. “Yes, Steve.” He felt like a rat in a new maze. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Dammit!” Rogers suddenly yelled and hit the wheel with both hands. “This is not a title! It’s my name!”

Tony’s stupid heart froze in startlement but curiously, not in fear.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t thinking. Allow me to make it up to you when you return?” He almost finished his question with ‘Steve’ again but managed to bite it back at the last moment.

There was a brief pause. “Not necessary. It’s been a tough day for both of us.” He sighed again. “I’m sorry for yelling. Here,” he added abruptly as if remembering something.

He rummaged in his pants pocket, fished out a key chain and held it out to Tony.

“Go inside and eat something. I’ll see you later,” he finished and without waiting for a reply, peeled off the curb as if he was afraid to hear what else Tony would say.

A tough day for _ both _ of them? _ Shit _. Human trash. That's what Tony was. Just garbage.

“I’m sorry for the stupid T-shirt,” Tony mumbled when the car was already out of sight.

By the end of the first week Tony was going stir-crazy. His days were full of sitting in his own room, staring out of the window, reading, coding secretly on pieces of paper and then hidden in places they could theoretically be written off as trash. He had no idea why he was even there. Maybe he was bought as a gift? It as blatantly clear that Steve Rogers was not interested in him at all, nor did he seem to be one to entertain guests. It wasn’t even that no one visited him. It had just been six days after all and not everyone received guests mid-week. But Rogers never even went out unless it was for jogging or groceries. And what was even more damning, during the days Tony had been there, he hadn’t even heard Rogers receive any phone calls.

_ Maybe it was because of his temper, _ a voice of fear whispered from somewhere deep in the back of his brain. _ Maybe it’s so awful that he bought you to be the outlet; you've just been lucky thus far. _

Tony brushed the thought aside. Even if it were true, there was no point in worrying about it beforehand. If it happened, it happened. Tony had received beatings before.

_ Maybe it wouldn't be a beating, _ the voice whispered again.

_ Shut up. _

There had to be a reason for why Captain Rogers was so nice to Tony. Why would he be? The Owners sometimes said that they did but Tony knew that slaves didn't really get consideration by the independents. Not all owners were cruel by nature but they simply lacked the relevant life experience to think of slaves as anything else than their possessions. But being a luxury item was something Tony was used to, that was not the hard part. The part that made Tony’s gut clench with unease was that he still didn't know his function in this new household.

Why was he here?

But possibly even worse than that was that Captain Rogers didn’t own a computer nor was there a wifi connection in the house. As far as Tony could tell, the only thing that he could’ve theoretically code on was the Owner’s phone and Tony had no access to that. How was he supposed to keep working if he had no internet? He needed that AI because when he was finally on the run, any number of unexpected problems could occur that he wouldn’t be able to overcome without someone else’s help. And if caught, his AI would be the only one who’d be in a position to help him. The only one who would even try.

Tony needed to either get sold on or persuade Captain Rogers to buy something Tony could get access to. And to do that, he needed to have at least some regular interaction with his Owner. But how could he talk to someone who was so clearly avoiding him?

It seemed that his Owner (_Call me Steve_) went out running every morning, exercised for hours and then lounged in the living room, reading. On the fourth day, the gym equipment came and the captain spent even more time working out than before. Twice, Tony sneaked past the bathroom while Steve was taking a shower and Tony was shocked to hear that the man was jerking off in there.

Very clearly, Tony was not needed for what he'd so far considered to be his primary function.

When Saturday rolled around, Tony was sure that he would have to ask for his weekly milking or go without. He wasn't sure which he preferred. On the one hand, milking tended to be an exercise in futility, but the one time his current Owner had done it, it had felt… Tony had no words to describe it, but he was desperate to find out if it could be repeated. The fear that it couldn't be, he tried to ignore.

There was a knock and Tony froze. His heart beating fast, Tony got up and opened the door.

“Captain?” He was glad he wasn’t stuttering.

“Steve, please,” the captain said with a tense smile. “Are you busy? I thought we could do it now rather than in the evening.”

Tony swallowed. “Yes, of course, Cap-Steve. Now is good.”

Captain Rogers nodded decisively and turned to go. Tony followed.

_ Are you busy? _

Feeling disoriented, Tony mindlessly followed his Owner into a playroom.

A playroom.

Eyes wide with astonishment, Tony looked around and wondered why he was so surprised. As far as private dungeons went, it was pretty tame with a plush bed in the middle. It certainly wasn’t the most extreme one where Tony had ever been played with, but for Steve Rogers to even have one, seemed strange. Out of character somehow. But on the other hand, what did Tony really know about Steve’s character?

“Remove your pants and get on the bed, please,” his Owner said in a controlled voice which, a week ago, had meant that he was aroused but trying to hide it.

Emboldened and suddenly very much turned on, Tony removed his pants, left them on the peg near the door and crossed the room to the bed.

“How do you want me, sir?”

Experience had taught Tony to be formal during scenes even if nominally it was a routine hygienic procedure, but maybe he shouldn’t have gone that route this time? There was a telling pause behind him and then Tony thought he might have heard a sigh.

“Just sit down, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

That. Was less than sexy. And it definitely didn’t sound as if Rogers actually wanted to do anything with Tony.

_ You’re a burden, _ the voice in his head whispered. _ Useless. _

_ Shut up, _he told it, but it was pointless. He knew the truth.

Tony sat. Knowing that he was supposed to stay put, he didn’t turn around, but he could hear the captain in the bathroom. Washing hands perhaps?

“Alright, let’s get you unlocked,” the Owner said as he came out of the bathroom.

Tony’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter.

_ Are you busy? _

And he knocked. Always. Why would he knock and why was that suddenly important?_ Shut up, brain. _

_ Are you busy? _

_ Why would he unlock me? It’s not necessary for the milking. Not necessary at all. _

“Sir?” Tony had no idea what he was asking, but he hated how thin and frail his voice sounded in his own ears.

“Steve,” Steve replied in a patient voice.

“Steve,” Tony repeated, looking down.

“Yes, Tony?”

“I…” Tony shook his head and widened his knees so that his Owner had better access to his (literally his, the Owner’s, not Tony’s) privates. “Nothing. Sorry, sir,” Tony said as he heard the click of the lock and watched the hated contraption being slid off.

Rapidly, his cock started to fill and in his shame, Tony could scarcely even look at the captain.

“Get on your hands and knees,” his Owner said and he was still talking in that soft and friendly voice he usually used to ask Tony about what he’d prefer for dinner.

_ Are you busy? _

_ Would you prefer Indian or Chinese for dinner tonight? _

Tony had said that either was good. Had been telling that every day for the past week and only now realizing that it might not have been lip service or a test. Maybe his Owner really wanted to know which he preferred? He did give Tony menus for a dish choice after all.

_ Shit. _

_ I’ve been fucking this up. _

_ Why did he knock? _

The mattress shifted behind him and there was a careful, warm palm on the small of his back. Then the other hand parted his cheeks and (probably) the right one slid down to his hole. The pressure was slight, but he could still feel it just enough and it made Tony harden even more.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked and for the first time, Tony thought that maybe this wasn’t a pretend. Maybe he was actually… asking.

In any case, his answer was still going to be the same.

“Yes, that feels good. Thank you,” he replied in an equally quiet voice.

“Good.” There was a smile in the Own- in Steve’s voice.

He kept rubbing and rubbing and rubbing until Tony wanted to push back, but was still somehow keeping from moving. And then (and fuck, he could swear it was an accident!) Rogers's finger slipped in and for longer than was necessary, it held still. 

"You okay with this?" Steve asked as if-

"Was ready yesterday," Tony ground out, a part of his mind panicking about being insolent.

There was a surprised chuckle behind him and tears of relief had to be rapidly blinked back.

He'd had an Owner like that once. An Owner that actually cared about Tony’s pleasure. God, it was so long ago. _ Fuck. _

He bore down and was not told off. God.

"You think you're ready for another finger?" Steve asked, and it wasn't just sex talk. Nor a taunt nor-

"Yes," Tony said with no honorific or a title. Just that. An answer to a genuine question.

And it was okay.

The two fingers massaged Tony’s little spongy spot so gently that Tony wanted to cry.

"More?" Tony begged, as he usually would.

Steve hummed in acknowledgement, but continued just the same.

"Please?" Tony tried again, trying to sound 'right' this time.

The nonreaction was clearly a 'try again', Tony didn't even know how he knew that.

The speed and direction changed, the pressure never did. The tension inside him built, built, built; spread throughout his body, leaked out via tear ducts and sperm; made him tremble and Tony tried full-on begging with all shorts of titles and honorifics, and Steve praised and petted him gamely, slightly breathlessly but also with laughter in his voice.

"Shit! Fuck!" Tony just swore in the end. "Whadda fuck do you want, you fucker?" he demanded with tears of frustration on his eyes.

"You. The real you."

In the shocked silence, Steve increased the pressure and the unholy pleasure unfurled in Tony as never before, blanketing the orgasm he’d experienced the week before out of existence. There was a hand on his cock for the first time in what was probably years and the pleasure just kept on and on and on.

The great, heaving sobs came in the wake of the sexual relief and Steve shushed him and pulled him into his lap, embraced and rocked him back and forth and waited for him to calm down.

After, Steve cleaned him up and pulled a light blanket over him and let him sleep.

When he woke in the morning, still unlocked and being offered a breakfast choice, Tony had hearts in his eyes, and hating himself, he hid all and any part of his Stockholm syndrome away. Instead, he asked about whether Steve had seen a particular movie and offered to find it online for him.

Thus, the slow road to freedom was resumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware of the title being kind of misleading, but it sounded right? I can't explain it, but no Tony is most definitely not really totally cowed. Not entirely, not any more. He's strong.
> 
> Also, I'm kinda anxious about moving on from the smut. I hope it didn't disappoint?


	3. Through constant pain, disgrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than my usual, but this story seems to work at different pacing for some reason.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful betas: Loran and QueenMaeve! You are the *best*!!
> 
> Warning: I added a tag!

To his great astonishment, the cock cage never made its reappearance, but neither did they have any further sessions. It was now two weeks since Steve had removed the cage and Tony was still patiently waiting. He’d been schooled well, he knew the drill. Maybe there were cameras, maybe Steve had other ways to find out if he touched himself. Shit, maybe Steve was clairvoyant, but Tony knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was a test that he couldn’t fail.

He hated it.

He'd always hated wearing the chastity device, but now that it was off, it felt even worse. Knowing that he could touch himself, but he also certainly, most definitely  _ couldn't. _

Tony wasn’t entirely sure if he was supposed to ask or wait patiently. Probably the latter. He hated that he was hard so often and sometimes for no reason; which was why for the last three nights, Tony hadn't been able to fall asleep.

On the other hand, Steve had finally got himself a laptop and allowed Tony to set it up. Now he'd been coding every waking hour that Steve was out or asleep. Despite his own physical needs, Tony’s mind was sharp and fingers quick. Already, he'd managed to write up most of what he had in his brain and on the pieces of paper that he scrupulously retrieved and destroyed. For the first time in the last eighteen years, he was at a point of being able to create in real-time with no old material. Would he even know how? Was the sentient AI even possible or was it just a delusion of a desperate man? Tony used to think that he could do the impossible, but now he wasn't sure anymore; the last time he'd had any real creative freedom was at seventeen. He’d been a self-centered  _ child _ so full of himself his own guardian had decided to get rid of him.

Logically, he knew that Obie just turned out to be a human scum, but it also meant that he hadn't valued Tony highly enough to try to keep him. Had Obie been right? Maybe Tony wasn't as smart as he'd thought after all. Even so, although there was a long way to go yet, he was really happy with his progress. He hadn’t made such great leaps in years. If he was lucky and did not get sold or caught, he could conduct the first voice tests in a year.

Tony had been careful with sneaking around, but he was now more or less sure that there were no invisible cameras and that his Owner wasn’t clairvoyant. Of course, there weren’t any cameras, Tony was just paranoid.

He still couldn’t touch himself. Even if he were sure that Steve wouldn’t check how full his testicles were for the next few days, it still felt impossible. He’d not freely masturbated since he was seventeen. What would Steve think if he did? No. He couldn’t. Tony pushed the thought away.

Coding was a joy, but after four sleepless nights his eyes were drooping and he almost fell asleep behind the laptop. With a horrified start, he jerked up, and blinking, closed everything down.

“Tony?”

The knock sounded again. Tony wasn’t sure how he knew that it wasn’t the first time he’d heard one, but he was sure nonetheless. Heart trying to beat out of his chest, he leaped up and clambered to the door to open it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, sir! I’m up now.”

Tony tried combing his hair into something socially acceptable and realized that the T-shirt he’d fallen into bed with was the same one he'd worn yesterday and that his Owner had just done the once-over on him and his eyebrow was quirking in severe disapproval.

Tony swallowed and glances at the clock only to see that it was almost nine. “I’m sorry I slept in, sir.” 

"Steve." Steve smiled reassuringly. He was very obviously making a conscious effort to look more friendly. "It's fine. Did you stay up late last night?"

Blind panic slammed into Tony.  _ He knows. He knows, he saw me. He's gonna- _

No. Steve didn't look angry. He was just making small talk because he was nice. If he'd seen Tony he'd have said so last night. It was fine.

"Yeah, I was reading. Sorry."

"I said it's fine. Don't worry about it."

Tony worried about it for the next five days and he didn't dare to touch the laptop unless in Steve's presence and it was clear that he was allowed. No coding. His cock ached. He needed to code.

Tony was a coward and he hated himself for it, but no one had ever guessed his plan and there was no way he could let anyone find out. If they knew he'd never be allowed near any smart device ever again. He could as well be dead.

Tony was also extremely careful to resume the routine that didn’t interrupt his Owner’s. Being predictable had always made for an easier indenture.

Then came the days where Steve started to look angry for no reason and Tony had to be careful to not get in his way. Not that Steve was ever abusive in his words or actions but one could never know how or when his Owner would blow up. As far as Tony could see there was no reason for it but Steve’s- Rogers’s workout routine, which had been already brutal before, was even worse now. Tony wasn’t sure the man even slept.

And he masturbated. A lot. One time, Tony stood with his forehead leaning on his Owner’s door, eyes closed and hands clenched into fists, wishing that it was for him; that he could just go in there and… do something. Help? Maybe then Steve would finally touch him or at least tell him what to do to earn the right to be touched. As it stood, Tony was hard, dripping and St- Rogers was inside, jerking off, panting and whimpering. Tony had to bite his lip to keep from making any noise. Hearing Steve’s groan of satisfaction made Tony’s eyes water and for a moment his treacherous brain told him that surely Steve wouldn’t know if Tony snuck into his room and quietly got off. But what if he wanted Tony tomorrow? Yeah, it was unlikely, but  _ what if _ ? He’d see that Tony’s sack wasn’t full. Not that Steve had ever shown any interest in checking it before but… 

_ Shit. _

Sure, he might get lucky and it would be another week before Captain Rogers took an interest, but could Tony really risk it? Besides, if he started breaking rules, no way it would stay a solitary event.

Tony was so, so fucked.

It was the fourth week of their cohabitation and twenty minutes into a movie when Steve suddenly got up and mumbled something about going to the gym.

“Finish the movie without me,” he added.

Numb with feeling of failure and vague dread, Tony sat in the same spot and finished watching the film. Steve was angry with him. Again. Still? Tony had no idea why but he had to be. And it hurt to be on the receiving end of his owner’s anger because…

Tony had learned long ago that he got attachment issues at the mere hint of kindness by his owner. He knew that it was a psychological response to social conditioning but it didn't make it any easier to discard when he started craving his owner's approval.

Why was Steve angry? It wasn't as if he knew about the AI. And Tony hadn't jerked off. He hadn't. It was just his body dealing with it in its own way. Tony was asleep, for God's sake! And he'd washed the sheets himself. Steve couldn't have found out about it, could he? He would have just put the cage back on if that was a problem, wouldn't he?

But the fact was that Steve rarely even looked at Tony these days and when he did, it was never with the soft friendly look like before. Tony had some very bad experiences with independents glaring at him like that, so every time it happened with Steve, he dropped his eyes and made himself scarce. Thus far he’d been lucky.

But if Tony had done something wrong why wouldn’t the captain simply punish him? Being avoided or watching a movie alone hardly counted. Nevermind that Tony suspected that being whipped would’ve felt better than  _ this. _

Instead, Steve worked out and jerked off in the shower and his bedroom. Maybe Tony should do something about it, just come out and ask him? Offer? Maybe he should just undress, go to his- his… It had been a relief to call him by his name openly, but could he do that now that he was so angry with Tony?

Maybe that was it. Maybe Steve had expected for Tony to show initiative? Captain Rogers was clearly an inexperienced owner. Maybe he'd expected Tony to go to him and drop to his knees? Beg to suck his cock? 

But showing initiative was dangerous, slaves weren't meant to do that. Besides, maybe Steve would prefer to beat the crap out of Tony instead, in which case… Hell, maybe it was still worth it? Anything was better than these constant hard-on-inducing glares.

At nights, Tony lied on his back, tied his hands to the sides with a short piece of rope running under his bottom and tried to sleep. Even though lying face down was generally out of the question, sometimes he indulged (tortured) himself; during the early hours of the morning, he turned over, pressed his groin into the mattress and... tried not to hump it. When he failed, he had to stop himself while biting knuckles from frustration and tears in his eyes.

Tony was getting so desperate that he might even get off on pain if Steve would just, _ please, please, _ touch him. But Tony was a coward even in this, so when he finally did drop on his knees before his Owner during another wretched movie night, he hadn’t been really prepared.

First, he was clothed, and second, he had no idea how to proposition a man he felt so deeply confusing emotions for and could never feel equal to. So instead of what he really wanted, he blurted, “Can I have the cage back, sir?”

“What?” Captain Rogers looked astonished and who could blame him - so was Tony.

“The cock cage, sir.” This was easier and should make sense to an Owner; they always assumed that slaves were desperate to serve. Besides, once a direction had been taken, it was unsafe to change course. “If you allow, I would humbly ask your permission to wear it again, Captain.”

“Why?”

“I…”  _ I want you to touch me again.  _ “I’m used to it, sir. It feels…”  _ Torturous. _ “Necessary.” And that was also true.

Steve was briefly quiet and nodded again, seemingly easily, as if agreeing with a silly slave that wanted... was asking for things that weren’t for him, but might be indulged in regardless. “Of course,” he replied, but his voice was tense. “If it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Tony fought his lips to remain in a neutral expression and not to break down and beg for an orgasm. “Thank you, sir,” he still said with a feeling.

Once the cage back on, Steve would  _ have  _ to at least milk him. And Tony loved Steve's milkings - as far as he was concerned, the two he’d gotten so far weren't much different from regular orgasms.

Half a minute later, his Owner was still looking at him as if there was something particular he wanted to see, but Tony’s training kicked in, so he just dropped his gaze and waited it out. When the captain finally stood up and left the room, Tony realized that he’d started to slip into what his owners had called subspace.

“Fuck.”

He was safe. Steve wouldn't hurt him; he hadn't thus far.

Tony shook himself. Should he stand up? Captain Rogers hadn't told him to, so he stayed. There was no need for subspace though. He was safe.

The last time he'd needed to escape into his numb zone had been years ago. He never properly learned how subspace was supposed to work. Just another way that he was a failure. It was only with Stone that his body managed to successfully shut down his mind in anticipation of pain.

But he'd never learned to enjoy it and most of the time he'd just pretended to have achieved the state. For anyone but Stone, it was generally good enough.

Tony heard the steps and for a moment, wanted to get up just to show that he was made of sterner stuff, that he wasn’t totally cowed, that his subservient status was just for show, but-

It wasn’t true.

When Steve returned with a box in his hand, he strode in with a military stride but with an edge of defeat Tony didn’t think was warranted. What was going on? Tony felt bad for putting Steve on his heels earlier, but most of him was taut with intense arousal. Probably his body's response to the idea of being touched; not even dampened with the thought of the cage. _ Jesus, you are dumb,  _ Tony thought.

For a moment, Steve stopped as if in surprise that Tony was still on his knees.

“Come here,” Steve ordered and sat back down on the sofa, still holding the innocuous black box between his hands.

He wasn’t told to get up, but obstinately, Tony did. With most of his previous owners, it would have meant an instant punishment, but at this point, Tony was ready for anything.

He knew that Steve had power over him in every sense of the word and even his kindness was a weapon. Irrefutably, it was the best weapon to wield against Tony. Several of his Owners had known about it, so Tony assumed it was on his characterization sheet. Steve must know it too. And even though these days it took a lot more to convince Tony that any kindness was sincerely meant, with Steve… Tony’s defenses were down.

Demonstrating his independence was foolish. He needed to stay in his Owner’s good books, he needed access to the laptop and he needed the cage and milkings, but he just couldn't swallow his pride. He got up.

Steve didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He was simply staring at the box, his shoulders hunched. Useless ache squeezed Tony's heart at seeing Steve so... dejected. Why would Steve feel like that? Tony must be projecting because he himself felt at a loss.

“Okay, let’s get it over with,” Steve said quietly, gesturing vaguely towards Tony’s crotch.

He opened the lid of the box and took the hated contraption out.

Tony stared at it. His damning salvation.

There was no way he’d get it on now, though. Steve’s big hands would be on his cock any minute now and if Tony hadn’t already been hard, he would get so now. As it stood, Tony just had to unbuckle, undo his button and pull his zipper down.

Steve stared.

“I’m sorry.” Tony looked away. It felt idiotic to explain such things, but it seemed that however considerate Steve Rogers was, there were things he was obtuse about. “I know I’m not supposed to, but that’s what generally happens over time, sir.”

Tony cringed inside at his sarcastic tone, but Steve just blinked.

“And when did you last…”

Baffled at Steve’s equally baffled tone, Tony’s eyes snapped back up. “You _ know  _ when.”

Steve’s eyes went round. “You mean…? You haven’t touched yourself  _ since _ ?” His voice was horrified as if it was incomprehensible to him that Tony hadn’t-

Suddenly the misunderstanding became clear in his head and in dismay, Tony blurted, “You mean I was  _ allowed _ ?”

But of course, he had. Of course, Steve wouldn’t have tortured him like that with just unlocking him and then abandoning him to his desires, of course, Steve wouldn’t have purposefully left him wondering for how long that was for or what Tony was supposed to do. Steve had thought that Tony understood. He  _ should _ have understood. God, Tony was so stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed at his gross miscalculation of his Owner’s character. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize! I’m so sorry to have bothered you with…” He looked away from his Steve’s shocked face, the white knuckles around the metal and his eyes still trained on Tony’s open fly.

His idiotic dick was still hard as nails. If he hadn’t been already flushed, the blood would rush to his face now for sure.

"Not… Not your fault,” Steve mumbled. “I should have explained."

_ Yeah. Probably. _

“Come here.”

Steve’s voice was suddenly firm with determination and, flummoxed and anxious, Tony stepped closer.

Without further ado, Steve grabbed his hips, drew him even closer and-

Engulfed half of Tony’s cock into his mouth.

The first shock of the warm touch was nothing compared to the sensation of it being sucked in deeper. Tony would have fallen, but somehow, the strong pair of hands held him up. Tony’s hands found Steve’s shoulders and his legs liquid under him, he was coming. He might have moaned or just gurgled. The orgasm was as painful as it was pleasurable and if there were tears, at least they didn’t fall. Maybe it felt more cleansing than enjoyable but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was different; it was something else than what had been happening for weeks now: the confusion and the ache, dread and anxiousness. All of that was gone, the worry about his AI a white noise. He was fine. He was good now - his Owner had taken matters into his hands and Tony didn’t have to do anything, didn’t have to think. It was all out of his hands. He was not culpable for how he felt or what his body was doing. Tony was on the sofa now. Being laid down and a blanket was being pulled over him. He closed his eyes and rested.

At some point, there might have been gentle fingers in his hair. Was he dreaming?

“I’m sorry,” Steve said so quietly that Tony wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear them or not. “I’m shit at communication.”

Tony wasn’t going to confirm it, so he hummed.

“Tony?”

Not wanting to commit in either case, Tony hummed in question.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Steve went on quietly; so quietly, Tony was almost sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. “I assumed it was self-evident that I… You can do what you want with your body, Tony. Wear the cage or don't. Touch yourself or not. This is not for me to decide. It’s your right.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry, I’m such a coward,” he whispered, probably to himself. “I guess we should just talk in the morning.”

“I heard you,” Tony mumbled.

There was another pause. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
Feedback is love! :)


	4. Learns their rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things to note this time.
> 
> First, in one place Tony is thinking unfavorably of a person but I promise you, it is not a judgment on anyone's ethnic origins nor am I trying to body-shame anyone. It's a lot more simple than that: Tony has been through a traumatic experience (or rather several) in a geographical location which might or might not become discussed later in the story. This is all there is, please, don't take offense.
> 
> Second: all the thank you for the beta on this one goes to Loran and Mav. From the bottom of my heart: you are awesome! <3
> 
> I haven't answered to your awesome comments in a while - I'm so sorry! But life has been busy and I thought that I'd rather write and update. I will reply at the first opportunity: I love each and every one of your comments! I reread them when I need inspiration and they have really helped! Thank you so much! <3 <3 <3

_ It's your right. _

_ Do you like Chinese? What's your favorite? _

_ Are you busy? _

_ It's _your_ right. _

_ It's your _ right_. _

_ Is it? _

Tony had woken before five and snuck back into his room. He didn't touch the laptop. Even an image of it behind his eyelids felt like a symbol of betrayal.

His cock, on the other hand, was just there. Hard.

For some reason, he still couldn't touch himself; he hadn't in years, after all. But the thought of it was a compelling one and a lot more present than the one about escaping.

He needed to go; he knew that. Run before he felt unable to tear himself away from one Steve Rogers. Run before he was so irrevocably tied down by the toxic affection, unable of free thought. The affection Tony _ thought _ he was getting from his current Owner wasn't there, not really. And what little there was, would run out sooner than Tony would like.

It always did.

When Tony turned up for breakfast the next morning, Steve was standing at the stove, his back rigid and fists clenched at his side's. And he didn’t seem to be leaving.

_ Shit_.

The worst of it was, though, that there was a familiar black box on the kitchen table. The sight of it was making Tony slightly ill because even though he remembered some idealistic talk about him having governance of his own body, Tony wasn’t naive enough to take his Owner’s sleepy ramblings for the gospel.

He swallowed. “I’m so-”

“Don't. Just stop fuckin’ apologizing.”

Steve turned around. His face was lined with something Tony desperately wanted to call worry but it was also grim and fighting to remain blank. No way it could be good for Tony.

"It's my line,” Steve said. “I am sorry. For everything."

Tony's heart started suddenly pounding.

“I'm sorry this life here is not what you are used to. I know…" Steve gestured around himself. "I know this isn't much. Not compared to where you’ve lived before-"

"I don't mind," Tony blurted. He knew that if Steve decided to sell him on, there was nothing he could do about it but the mere idea of it was making him feel cold. "I like it here," he added as if his opinion would in any way matter.

Steve's lips curled slightly upward. "Come on, Tony. I know you were raised in a harem."

Yeah, Tony knew that was what his documents said, but correcting his Owner would hardly change anything. A mansion was only a small step down; most people wouldn't see the difference.

He shrugged. "Silk sheets isn't everything."

At this, Steve grinned, seemingly relieved. "True.”

Why was he relieved? Had he come to some kind of decision? Was he getting rid of the responsibility? Of Tony? 

“Still,” Steve continued, seemingly unaware of Tony’s inner turmoil. “The point is that I've never done anything like this before. Owned a- a… dependent.” He took a ragged breath and bowed his head seemingly to check how his toes were faring. “I should have explained. About the cage. I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Tony said awkwardly, unpracticed in forgiving people who were clearly sincere in their apology and didn’t assume the forgiveness beforehand. How Tony could be sure that Steve meant it though, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Steve was shaking his head again. “It's not. That's why you asked for the cock cage back, isn't it? Because it was difficult for you to... I am sorry for not realizing.”

His shoulders were tight with some unknown tension and Tony, foolishly, wanted to hug him. Or give him a sponge bath and suck him off. Or build him a tiny robot to make him laugh. Something.

God, he was a moron.

His self-loathing cranked up a notch at his own gullibility. This handling him with kids’ gloves was a red herring, Tony told himself. Stone had expressed remorse, too, a couple of times. Had been kind, too. Especially at first, in the first few months. And in the end, all it had amounted to nothing more than elaborate head games. But Steve was nothing like Tiberius Stone.

Wasn’t he?

A mad cackle echoed in his frozen in shock skull, pummeling his heart into submission.

“I am sorry for the misunderstanding, Tony,” Steve continued in the meanwhile. “The idea of removing your chastity device was to give you the freedom to-” Abruptly, he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “To give you the freedom to choose when and how you want to experience gratification. I apologize for not realizing that I was supposed to actually say so. You can have the cage back if you really want it. The key is in the box. But if you want to leave it off, that’s fine, too. Your body… and mind... belong to you."

He paused, probably to let it sink in but Tony wasn’t letting himself hear the words yet, not enough to be able to interpret the meaning yet anyways. The only thing Tony was interested in was determining whether Steve himself believed it or not.

When Tony, hopelessly lost, didn’t reply, Steve went on. "I know that it's not what you were raised to believe, but people don't own other people. And you, Tony Edwards, belong to me in name only."

_ This has to be a trick, _ Tony thought with bile rising up into his throat. A rebel talk like this was highly illegal and there was no way that someone who kept to Avengers' beliefs would have bought so expensive a slave as he was. For what? To preach freedom at him? For the same amount, he could’ve gotten ten professionally trained dependents in any field he desired. To help with… whatever agenda he had. If he had any.

Steve stared at him, sighed and sat down at the table. "I’m sorry if it's too confusing. We don't have to talk about it anymore for now, but if you can, I would be honored if you tried to think of our cohabitation as a shared living quarters, nothing more. In time… perhaps we could even be friends but for now…” His wide shoulders rose and dropped jerkily. “You can have freedom of movement and action here. I’m sorry I can’t grant you more outside of this house, but if there’s something I can do - somewhere you want to go, like the Met or… some other museum, or anywhere… I don’t know... Feel free to tell me and I’ll try to make it happen.”

Tony stood unmoving, his brows in a deep frown, trying to process everything he’d just heard and unable to. Mind games. Had to be.

The pause stretched out.

“Just think about it, yeah?” Steve added, abruptly turned around and after a moment, Tony was alone in the room.

_ Yeah. I’ll think about it. Sure. _

He was sick and tired of thinking.

The only reason Tony had grabbed the box from the table was that it looked wrong just lying about on there. And also because a part of his brain seemed to be harboring an illusion that if he had it, he could control whether it was going to be used or not. He discarded it the moment he reached his own room, threw it into a drawer and on shaky legs, sat down.

Then suddenly, as if touched by a live wire, Tony startled into action: button open, zipper down, one hand struggling to get his pants out of the way and the other grabbing his shaft.

With a shuddering whimper, he jerked his fingers around it and started pumping it with unsteady movements. It was a relief and pain and Tony came very soon after with an anguished cry.

_ Your body and mind belong to you. _

_ Ha. Right, Mr. Resistance Fighter. What would you know about it? _

_ It’s your right. _

Fuck. You!

Jerking off was intoxicating. Tony did it all the time now. He felt incredibly guilty, but he still did it. Staying in his room wasn't a pointless chore anymore because now he had something to_ do. _ Something that he was allowed to do. Something else than planning his escape or thinking about Steve's possible sincerity.

Something that didn’t make him feel like the worst sort of a treacherous bastard.

Enough.

He wasn’t hard but he took hold of himself anyway. Could he do it again? So soon? Even touching his soft cock was a thrill. Tony added lube and pulled on it gently a couple of times. He barely remembered how he’d liked it back when he’d been doing it himself regularly, but he knew how he liked to be touched now. Slowly, he pulled at his cock up and down, with just the right pressure, his thumb caressing the crown exactly where and how he wanted it.

Tony moaned.

For years now, he generally had no say in how his cock was touched, so keeping his orgasms far and few was the only way his Owners could make sure that he’d get hard and come quickly if they so wished, giving them the illusion that Tony actually wanted them. Well, with Steve it wouldn’t matter.

His top ten favorite fantasies were now entirely made up of Steve Rogers and his facial expressions, his hands, thighs, his ass. The cords in his neck, the plains of his back. The way his brows moved. One man, many very specific fantasies in high resolution. Of his owner. That had never happened before, but as much as Tony hated himself for it, it was something that didn’t make him feel like a disloyal fuck.

The stressed face Steve had that first day in medical had in retrospect been all confusion mixed with repressed want. The image of Steve not wanting to even touch Tony felt so incredibly arousing now. And the noises Tony had overheard of Steve masturbating! Half of these memories were now transforming into vague images of_ Tony _ telling _ Steve _ what to do and how to touch himself.

Images of Steve on his knees before Tony with his mouth open and adoration in his eyes. The fact that something quite similar had actually already happened, only fuelled his fantasies further.

The idea of Tony wanting to turn the tables on his Owner was ridiculous. An insane fancy, but he ached for it with fierce longing. The thought of reversing their positions and just… taking. It was a guilty pleasure to imagine him being above his Owner. It would never happen, and even if in some mythical future were Tony ever managed to escape…

_ It’s your right. _

There was a doorbell.

Tony startled, but his surprise melted into incredulity when he saw Steve freezing on the spot. For a second there, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, then turned to face Tony and with fierce determination as if preparing to go into battle, said, “Go into your room and put something… attractive on. Stay there and don’t come out unless I call you. Understood?”

Tony’s legs were moving before his brain had processed that this was Steve’s Owner voice. Fear curling in his gut, Tony stepped to his closet, opened it and panicked. Attractive? What the hell did that mean? He probably meant sexy, right? He’d known there was nothing really sexy in his wardrobe but it hadn't been a problem until now. But fine. He knew how to make little into something more. What he looked good in.

A maroon button-down silk shirt left open and black briefs that he’d been wearing when Steve had bought him. Eyeliner, an ankle bracelet, a winning smile.

No. 

He looked wrong. 

Wrong like he’d pulled on a fake rubber skin. He dialed his smile back but even like this, he looked anxious. Dammit. For over several weeks he hadn’t needed to be… this. This version of him. And seeing himself decked out like a cheap brothel slave was even worse than him in nothing but a collar and a cockcage-

_ Shit. _

He had to put it on. He was required to wear it for four years more at least. What if the visitor knew about it? Quickly, he darted to the drawer and got the box out. Thank god it was just here and not in the playroom or worse - somewhere in Steve’s. And thank god he’d just masturbated not half an hour ago. Still, putting it back on, hurt. Physically and emotionally.

Getting his testicles through was the worst. He’d never actually done it himself. To himself. It felt almost worse than the first time the fat Indian slave driver fucked him. Almost as demeaning. He swallowed away the feeling and grabbed the second part. His cock was small by habit, trained to fit into small cages, not used to being allowed to occupy the space meant by nature. Putting it in the cage now felt like setting the heavy metal shackles on his wrists and ankles, the tight posture collar he’d worn during the first few months of slavery.

For an indeterminate minute, Tony stared at himself in the mirror and all he saw was his seventeen-year-old self in his ‘training outfit'; his 'accessories' too heavy for his thin frame. Too pale for the bruises, too quiet for his own self - not being allowed English even in his own head.

The sound of Steve calling his name brought him out of his memories and hastily, he locked himself in. Pulled his briefs on and left the key on the dresser.

He told himself that when he came back, the key would still be there.

Leaving the room felt like going out to his first group entertainment, but although his steps were quick, by the time his bare feet touched the living room floor, his eager-to-please armor was back in place. Even Tony himself almost believed that he _wanted_ to meet the guests. What would his role be? Would he be an active participant in this 'private party' or could he just remain an ornament this time?

Tony had no idea what he’d expected, but it wasn’t a sole red-headed woman who managed to look entirely too elegant and expensive even in her SHIELD outfit. Her long hair was in a tight bun and her beautiful leg thrown over the other. Despite her neutral smile, Steve was tense.

“Tony,” he said without turning to look at Tony. “There you are. Would you make Agent Romanoff here a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ignoring the open curiosity on the woman’s face, he padded to the kitchen and started the coffee. He didn’t like her. Feeling stupidly paranoid, Tony thought that she’d seen a lot more of him than he wanted her to see. It didn’t make sense, she’d only seen him for half a minute.

Trying to prepare a tray and listening in were unfortunately mutually exclusive tasks and the whole situation was putting his teeth on edge. 

_ Fuck. _ Why was the Big Brother here? It was supposed to be Situational Help and Integration for Egalitarian Legislative Dependency but everybody knew that helping slaves or their Owners was often the very last thing they actually did. Once Tony had known a guy who’s Owner legitimately tortured him on the regular and after SHIELD got involved, the Owner was allegedly put to prison, yes, but the slave just plain disappeared. Were the rumors true? Was Bruce actually a genius scientist before mysteriously being sold into slavery somehow? Because why would anyone even trouble themselves with a stray sadistic Owner?

Tony finished setting up the tray and leaving it on the counter, snuck through the hall a little closer to the living room. He needed to hear what was going on. If it was Steve they had taken an interest in, it could be just as bad as if they’d caught Tony at hacking somewhere noticeable (which he hadn’t even done in the last few years!).

He listened.

_ Different about it … why do you think ... _

Damnit, he needed to get closer! Tony took one more careful step, but it wasn’t that much better.

_ … how are … six months … work out … _

Or working out?

_ ... domestic abuse … _

Jesus Christ, what?!

_ … respect due … active field operatives … ready … be in action… _

Steve’s voice was more distinct, Romanoff’s less so, but even before he heard her raising her voice only slightly, it was apparent that Steve was fucking this up. Badly. Because SHIELD have been known to randomly take interest in independents taking on slaves if it was a first-timer. Potentially, it could end in disaster and Steve already sounded strained and too curt. If SHIELD decided that Steve was unfit to govern a dependent…

When he said that everything was fine, the lie in his tone was apparent even from across the hall and behind the wall.

_ Shit. _

They must suspect him of being a part of the Avenger Movement and Steve wasn’t doing shit of dispelling them of the notion. Tony had to fix it. If Steve got disappeared on account of treason, Tony would go into state retraining facilities and it would be years before he saw a computer again. 

No.

That was not going to happen. Quickly, he tiptoed back into the kitchen, got the carafe onto the tray and looked it over. Not elegant, but good enough. Taking a deep breath and checking that his hands weren’t shaking, Tony picked the tray up and calmly went out to the living room.

Both independents looked up and Steve, the idiot, froze. Belatedly, Tony realized that Steve had never seen him in anything remotely revealing and it must have been an unpleasant surprise. Ignoring his inner twinge, Tony smiled reassuringly at Steve. It didn’t seem to be helping.

_ Right. Let’s give the staring a reason then. _

Walking past his Owner, Tony put a sensual swish into his hips and leaning down to set the tray, made an unnecessary step to the side. The frozen crude triangle of his legs he left almost in Steve’s face did what Tony had hoped.

There was a pointed clearing of his throat and Tony straightened to grin unrepentantly at his Owner.

Steve’s skin was blotchy red, his eyes bright with an angry challenge.

Tony winked at him.

Steve’s eyes narrowed but Tony simply stepped closer and dropped to his knees just to the right of his Owner’s legs. Then, staring adoringly at Steve, leaned his head on his thigh and relaxed all his muscles as if he did it all the time.

_ And over to you. _

Steve’s large palm landed on Tony’s head almost instantly. His fingers twitched in his hair and for a split second, Tony thought he’d go with ‘you insolent slave’ scenario, but then the fingers relaxed. Tony closed his eyes and pretended to tune the conversation out.

“I see that you allow your dependent some unusual privileges?” Romanoff said in a voice that sounded more intrigued than suspicious.

“He’s a good… boy. Well worth spoiling." Steve didn’t sound completely sincere, but neither did he sound like frothing at the mouth and scratch the lady’s eyes out, so Tony counted it as a win.

"Some of them are," the woman agreed. "I have a boy at home... I let him lick my feet sometimes. He absolutely loves it."

Steve tensed and Tony stroked his ankle.

“I can’t imagine that most…" Steve struggled for a word. "Not every dependant would love it." He sounded strained and Tony had to pet his calf again to remind him to relax. 

He wondered what was the word Steve kept stumbling over. It couldn't be 'slave', could it? No. Independents stopped using the word decades ago. 

The conversation flowed on and thankfully, Steve didn't need any more reminders for pretending congeniality. Tony was relieved to confirm that the visitation wasn’t because of him. It seemed that SHIELD was trying to figure out whether Steve’s mental acuities were all there. It sounded as if he’d been through something traumatic and was now trying to get back to fieldwork.

Good. With him at work, Tony would be able to resume his.

There was a painful squeezing ache in his chest that Tony called anticipation. He should try and help his Owner become the man that SHIELD would let back into service.

It was only about a quarter of an hour more that Tony finally let go of his suspicions: there was no way Steve was acting for Tony's benefit. Steve Rogers had to be a secret Avenger supporter. At least at heart if not in action. He could only hope that without knowing what had been going on behind closed doors, Romanoff wouldn’t guess the full extent of it.

There was a good chance. Probably.

Steve suddenly sat up, dislodging Tony’s head from his thigh.

"You mean, they would let me back into the field?"

The small elegant shoulders shrugged. "I don't see why not? The main argument against it had been to give you time to acclimatize after your ordeal. Let you get used to the change." She glanced at Tony approvingly. "I can see that you've managed to build yourself a reasonably happy domestic life. You say you've made new friends with a vet that's been freshly discharged instead of decades ago and that you are still keeping in touch with him. You are clearly able to start and maintain meaningful interactions in the private sphere and in public. I would definitely call that progress, Captain."

She smiled warmly, but something in Tony didn't like that smile one lick. He wondered if Steve had fallen for it.

Steve started to leave the house regularly the next week. Tony told himself it was a good thing because it freed up a lot of time for him to just sit at the laptop and code. It was bliss.

Coding and… other things. Thing. One thing.

Amazingly, his initial enthusiasm for self-gratification had started to wane and he finally allowed himself to admit that it was a little more than a physical attraction he felt for his Owner. It was not a surprise. Tony managing to fall head over heels for someone who would never look at him as an equal had happened before.

_ In time… perhaps we could even be friends… _

_ I’ll try to make it happen. _

_ The idea... was to give you the freedom... to choose… _

No. Gifts came with a price tag long before Tony had been indentured.

_ Your body and mind belong to you. _

Could that really be true?

Tony wasn't naive enough to think that Steve would agree to free him or aid him in his escape (Tony was far too expensive an investment for that), but it did mean that all the illegal talk of them being equals in spirit and between these walls was at least sincerely meant. Another squeeze in his chest let him know that his Stockholm syndrome was getting it on, but Tony told himself that he was managing it.

After Obie and Sunset and Ty, Tony wasn’t ready to fall for empty words ever again. If he wanted change, he was going to have to make it for himself. Reality had never supported his ideas before, so Tony would force reality to fit with his ideas. That was it. That was the goal. There was no point in wallowing in what-ifs. Steve was an Owner. Tony never would be.

Tony took the toolbox from the maintenance closet and went to disassemble the security panel on the back door. Time to see if he still had it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope the lack of sex wasn't a let-down? I'm not sure when the smut resumes, just know that it will.
> 
> On the downside: no idea what happened to the length of the story, as you can see there's a question mark there now. I had most of it figured out, but then... Natasha turned out and things got... interesting. ;)


	5. Deprived of all his thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter yet but this seemed like such a great place to finish. I hope you'll enjoy it!  
<3
> 
> Thank you, Imperium, for the awesome beta and multiple rereads!

Over the next few weeks, Steve started to do longer and longer workdays, returning more energized and determined every time. He smiled at Tony while greeting him but otherwise had little to do with him.

There were no movie nights.

Slowly, Tony stopped his marathon jerk-off. He didn't stop masturbating completely, but the frenzy was over and now every time he did, it was spurred on by interaction with his Owner. Steve. Owner. And his Owner didn't care. Why would he? Tony told himself it was a good thing and tried spending his time coding, instead.

During the second week of having been left to his own devices, Tony finally admitted to himself that he couldn't properly regulate. He felt the urge every time he saw Steve, every time Steve came home and was simply somewhere close - behind a wall or two. Tony thought of him every time he went to bed or woke up, even every time he saw a similar actor on TV. Tony woke up hard every morning, got randomly excited as he sat down at the kitchen table or got out of the bed. No shower passed without a rub-off but none it made him feel good any more.

With horror, Tony realized that once more, he was daydreaming instead of coding. Steve had left an hour ago but Tony had yet to manage a line. He typed the if-statement he’d intended to have finished already.  _ Fuck it! _ He hit the desk with his fist.

He couldn't concentrate. The mere feeling of his cock without confines made him want to touch it and all his mental energy seemed to be going on not touching it.

_ Shit. Fuck. Damn. _

Decisively, Tony stood and walked to the chest of drawers. With a final grimace, he pulled the drawer open and took the cage out. He felt like a failure; putting it on, but at least, he could work, and that was a priority. He allowed himself one rub-off every morning and evening, and purposefully forgot all about Steve in the meantime. Even though he still got aroused quite often, the feeling was familiar enough to ignore easily. He'd have to figure the having the device off  _ after. _ He swallowed. If there even was an after. At the moment, reprogramming his slave brain would have to wait. He let his fingers fly.

  
  


Weeks flew by with nothing interesting happening. Steve was away more than he was in the apartment, WSC announced another resolution while Avengers demolished another working camp, Captain America was apparently alive and saving civilians in the middle east, and Tony stayed inside and worked.  His potential AI would not yet pass a Turing test but going by their text-based interaction, it was learning rapidly. Tony harvested speech to text algorithms from other apps to teach it- _ him _ to understand basic commands.

Sometimes there were urgent phone calls and Steve left in a matter of minutes, hopping on a bike without a word of when he would be back. Tony hated when that happened because he could never be sure how long he had. He coded with one eye on the door and kept his fridge stocked. Sometimes he even ate at the appropriate times; after all, he had to keep up appearances.

  
  


Then, Steve disappeared for six days and Tony started to worry. Who’d inherit everything if Steve never returned? Tony stopped sleeping and eating, didn’t remove his cage and increased his coding speed. He was so close. Was he imagining it? Could he be close to doing something that no one had ever achieved? Or was he being delusional? Soon, he could start-

"Tony?"

Tony startled so hard, he accidentally pushed a coffee mug off the table. He tried to grab the mug, failed, leaped off the sofa, realized the coding window was open, started closing it, realized Steve couldn't immediately see the screen, glanced at Steve and then at the mug-

“Tony, it’s okay,” Steve said, looking somewhat alarmed. Uncrossing his arms, he pushed himself upright from where he was leaning onto the living room door jamb. “I know you didn’t know to expect me.” Steve smiled lightly, no doubt trying to look comforting. “Are you okay though? You look…”

Internally, Tony cringed. He knew what he looked like. “I’m sorry I haven’t been… I do know how to take care of myself. I-”

Tony cut himself off. He sounded weak. He was a disaster; he’d never known how to take care of himself. No wonder Obie thought he needed a-

No.

Tony raised his head and definitely, looked at his Owner. “I’m sorry sir. I’m going to clean up this mess and then take a shower-”

"No, that’s okay. Seems like the mug was empty anyway.” His eyes slid over the three… or five different mugs, all with a variety of black coffee dregs in it. “I can clean it up, no problem," Steve finished, stepping closer to the table.

Tony nodded. He knew he should protest but his Owner had spoken and it wouldn’t be the first time that Steve cleaned up after Tony. Not even thinking of saving the progress, Tony quickly closed all the windows and shut down the laptop. He lingered for a second, but thankfully, Steve wasn’t paying him any attention; he was kneeling awkwardly next to the table and the mugs. Tony fled.

He rushed straight to his bedroom and into the bathroom. His hands were shaking from adrenaline and his gut was churning.  _ I must be hungry,  _ Tony thought distantly. But shower first. His Owner wanted- No. That wasn’t why. Tony started with the shower because he needed to be clean and because he didn’t want to see Steve right at that moment. Steve might be in the kitchen, washing up or-

_ Steve might be hungry. Maybe I should...? No. I’m not a kitchen slave. _

Tony pulled off his pants and briefs, his thumbs brushed down his hip bones, the elastic dragged on the cage-

_ No. Don't’ think about it. _

He just needed to get cleaned. The rest didn’t matter, Steve didn’t matter because he wasn’t here. He was probably in the kitchen right now, standing by the sink, his back to the door, his triceps straining under the edge of the short sleeve-

_ Don’t think about Steve, don’t think about Steve, don’t… _

His cock was miserably compressed and angrily, Tony turned on the water. Cold. Just because Steve had smiled at him, asked him if he was okay and meant it... None of it was a reason for Tony to touch himself. He wasn’t a slave to his own body. He was free.

Steve had said so.

And Tony was a moron.

  
  


When several hours later, in the early afternoon, he finally ventured to the kitchen to make himself a quick sandwich, he was still mostly unprepared to deal with his feelings, but Steve wasn’t there, so Tony felt quite brave. Just until-

“Tony? May I have a word, please?”

Tony looked back and his stupidly arousable cock twitched. Steve was standing in the kitchen doorway, calm collected and, going by the wet hair sticking up on his forehead, fresh from the shower. Tony's fingers tightened on the knife he was using to spread cream cheese on his bread.

“Yes-?” He was quite used to foregoing saying ‘sir’ by now but he still turned around and put the knife down to appear polite. Just in case, his lips smiled.

Something tightened visibly in Steve’s demeanor and his fists clenched. Tony’s stomach plummeted. Why it was making his stupid cock rebel was a mystery but it also was nothing new. Easily ignorable.

For a short second, Steve stared, then swallowed, purposefully relaxed his body and bit the bullet.

“So I was thinking,” he started, “Remember we talked about maybe giving me a list of places you’d like to visit? Or things you’d like to have? Books? CDs? Music? Have you given a bit of thought to that?”

That… was was the last thing Tony had expected. And the last thing he needed - for his Owner to start showing his favor. What Tony definitely didn’t want to do was to go somewhere with the man.

He stared at Steve.

_ Your body- _

“The Met?”

Steve’s face brightened. “The Met, yes! Good. We can go today. Where else?”

_ -and mind- _

“Um… Museum of Natural History?” Tony fished around for an idea.

“Yes, nature is quite fascinating, isn’t it?”

_ -belongs to you. _

“And the planetarium,” Tony agreed as if he wasn’t angry with his Owner.

“And that.”

Good god, Steve’s smile was so eager, it was contagious. For a second Tony forgot that they lived on different plains.

  
  


The car ride to the Met started out awkward because even riding shotgun was still putting his nerves on edge. Then Steve told him not to adhere to behavioral norms and walk around as he wanted to. It was a good opportunity to practice. For  _ after. _ Because in the US, unless ordered by his Owner, only his behavior distinguished him from the independents. So he should… practice. But looking at his feet, Tony doubted whether he even could; he hadn't in so long.

He couldn't fail. He couldn't. Steve would...

But it shouldn't matter that Steve would regard the lack of success as _ his. _ Tony knew better. So determined, he closed his eyes and did what he’d never dared in years: he imagined himself free. How would he walk and talk if he  _ was _ ? How had he done it before?

The car stopped and Tony got out. Without looking at Steve, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and the next person that walked towards him flinched away from his direct gaze.

  
  


They made more plans the next day but their first outing together turned out to be their last because the day after, Steve got an urgent call.

"It's an easy mission. Only three days, nothing to worry about," Steve said.

“I’ll be waiting then,” Tony replied with a bit too much sincerity and even though Steve didn’t expressly smile, his whole face lit up.

Tony looked away.

  
  


For a little while, Tony worked like a maniac. Hours flew by. He now knew how to get out of the house undetected, a way to order an ID from the darknet and a plan for removing his chip. The only thing he needed was an actual AI. Then, the three days mark came and went. Tony opened the laptop again, stopped taking regular meals, forgot about showers and napped when he couldn't keep his eyes open. He was so close to speech recognition tests that he simply couldn’t stop.

  
  


Somewhere between the fourth and fifth day, Tony had just nodded off when he heard the sound of glass breaking somewhere at the back of the apartment. He jerked up and blinking into the darkness, froze.

"Steve," he almost whispered but the years of slavery had taught him to try and remain invisible in case of danger.

It couldn't be Steve anyway. Tony would have noticed him coming in, Steve would have woken him. Had Tony imagined the sound? He closed his laptop and rose quietly to his feet. His eyes roamed the room for a weapon - his self-preservation instinct had never succumbed entirely to the demand of never defending himself against his betters. On the way to the kitchen, Tony grabbed a thick thesaurus from the shelf and lifted it for a more comfortable grip.

The apartment was quiet, but instinct told Tony that he wasn’t alone. Despite it being deathly quiet, he  _ knew _ that there was someone sneaking along the corridor closer and closer to him. Holding his breath, Tony plastered himself to the wall and waited for the intruder to walk past him.

“To-”

The figure stepped out, turned to Tony as if he’d known where he would be and-

“-ny-”

-Tony smashed the book into the man’s face with all his strength. Steve’s head turned as if from a slap, the book fell with a dull thud.

“Shit! Steve!” Tony, leaped close to inspect the red mark on Steve’s cheek. “Fuck! I’m so sorry!” he started babbling in a quiet whisper for some reason. “Jesus, where do you come from? I’m sorry, I hit you. I thought you where-”

“It's okay,” Steve said equally as quietly. He rubbed his cheek in passing as if it was an insignificant irritant. “We don’t have time to talk. I need to take some things and go. I would like for you to go with me but the thing is-”

He was interrupted by a loud bang as if the front door was forced open. The living room started rapidly filling with smoke and Steve pushed Tony towards the kitchen.

“Out the window,” Steve said urgently, almost carrying Tony towards the kitchen and in a second, he was out of the broken window and on the fire escape. “Go up, I’m right behind you!”

Steve disappeared back inside, and Tony was about to follow him but got shoved outside again.

“They have guns!” Steve shouted angrily. “Go!”

“And what about you?” Tony yelled back because he heard shooting.

The next moment there were heavily armored soldiers in the room but Steve was on them like a hurricane and all Tony could do was stare.

“Go!” Steve repeated. “It’ll be easier if I don’t have to protect you!”

A soldier pointed his gun at Tony and to take cover, he leaped up the ladder. With his heart in his throat, Tony climbed but he shouldn’t have worried because he had barely gotten onto the roof when Steve was back with a small backpack over his shoulder.

“What is going on?” Tony panted as they ran.

“Treason.” Stooping behind a rooftop exit Steve grabbed Tony by the shoulders, looked at him intently, and said, “We can still pretend that I forced you if I hit you over the head and leave you here. But since you don’t know anything, you’ll have nothing to bargain with and their interrogation techniques...” He looked worried, but that wasn’t what was preoccupying Tony. “Will you come with me?”

Treason?  _ Treason?  _ The only thing Tony could think of-

“You an Avenger sympathizer?”

“I’m joining them,” Steve answered unhesitatingly.

Tony nodded. “Good. I’m coming with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might know that once again Marvel Trumps Hate event is going to kick off on the 19th Oct and it's relevant here because I'm auctioning off three works. :)
> 
> Anyway, you can check the event out at https://www.marveltrumpshate.com/ or https://marveltrumpshate.tumblr.com/tagged/mth-2019 where you can find a post from last Wednesday.
> 
> ***  
Thank you so much for reading! Comments are life :)


	6. Never from this day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write and I sought out the help of *so* many! I'm afraid that if I start listing you I'll forget some of you, but here goes:  
Imperium, avengersNewB, Mav, and Loran for some of it - thank you so much!! <3  
Also, Mizzy who educated a bunch of us on Discord about the Journey of a Hero. If not for that, this story wouldn't have been finished for a week more probably.  
Love you all!!

The blade was short but sharp. Tony told himself it was good, it wouldn’t hurt as much a big blunt one would.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked Steve.

“No.” Steve’s grip around Tony’s upper arm was firm and his face was set in grim determination as he stared at the spot. “This is the place, right?”

“Yes.” Tony took a deep breath and held it, but since nothing seemed to be happening, he let it out again and glanced at the other man, annoyed. “If you can’t do it, give me the knife.”

“It’ll be a lot messier if you do it yourself.”

“Yeah, but it will be done before the SHIELD gets here."

Steve’s lips tightened into a line and he gave a sharp nod.

The incision, when it came, was less painful than Tony had anticipated. Steve cut in exactly the right place and the whole process was very quick. Funnily enough, Steve looked as if it was more painful for him than it was for Tony and he did seem a lot more comfortable with bandaging the wound. All in all, they were in and out of the dark kitchen of a tiny family restaurant in just fifteen minutes.

  


After removing the chip, Tony felt better about their chances but his heart was still beating insanely loudly in his chest as they passed the train station security while boarding. Halfway to their destination, Steve… took him by the hand and they jumped off while it was slowing down. Walking in another direction entirely, they arrived at the bus station in over half an hour and cleaned up in the toilets. Trying to be seen by as few people as possible, they didn’t go to the bistro. Steve bought a big ugly sweatshirt off a bum and Tony wore a baseball cap. They boarded separately and didn’t meet up again until there were no cameras visible.

All in all, they arrived at a safe house in the suburbs just before the nightfall.

“Since when do you have a safe house anyway?” Tony asked, finally feeling free to raise his voice above whisper.

“It’s a friend’s. She told me to use it.”

They stepped further into the building and surveyed its half-furnished state. One storey, only four rooms it looked like.

“Oh yeah?” Tony walked through the rooms and opened closets to see what they had to work with. “Since when do you have friends?”

For just a second, Tony cringed. They weren’t equals. Tony shouldn’t be talking to his-

No. Steve, a traitor to the state was not an Owner and was now as much of a fugitive as Tony was.

“She’s a new friend,” Steve replied, not phased by the disrespect at all.

He opened the fridge door and stood, surveying its content.

“Anything to eat?” Tony asked. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, seems like it’s been recently stocked.” Steve started taking some ingredients out. “Give me a moment, I’ll whip up a couple of sandwiches.”

That was something Steve always had tried to do, Tony thought, to make them feel equal. And something Tony never realized before: the way Steve always took care of him didn’t feel like something done out of responsibility, but because he _ cared. _ Somehow, here, in this random house so far away from their upscale Brooklyn neighborhood, it was so obvious, Tony had no idea how he’d never realized it.

Not saying anything, Tony sat down and tucked in.

“You should let it grow out,” he said, his mouth half-full.

“What?”

“The beard.” Tony swallowed. The produce was fresh and the sandwich was delicious. “Probably hair too. I saw hair-dyes and toning shampoos in the bathroom. You’ll look very different with longer and darker hair.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully and continued packing it in.

“What about you?” he asked after a mouthful. “I don’t think we can lighten your hair without it looking weird.”

Tony shrugged. “They are looking for a dark-haired slave. I can put on a suit and make myself a flashy Owner, no one’s gonna recognize me.”

Steve nodded again. “You think you can pull it off?”

Tony shrugged with more confidence than he had. “Sure.”

There was a pause while Steve seemed to be working up to something but Tony didn’t want to hear it.

“I’ve not been brought up a slave,” Tony said. ”I know what my papers say, but I know how to act free.” Steve raised his eyebrows and Tony went on, “My fucking guardian sold me at seventeen after my parents died.”

His face growing pale, Steve stared.

Tony looked away. “He wanted my dad’s company,” he said and suddenly, it felt freeing to be able to talk about it again. For the first several times he’d tried, nobody listened. Nobody cared to believe. And maybe, in the end, Steve wouldn’t either, but Tony would tell him anyway. “I was brought up here, in New York and smuggled to India under a false name and given a crash course sex slave education.” Tony looked back at Steve. The narrowed eyes and the tightness in Steve’s jaw might have been for the repeated use of the word ‘slave’ but Tony didn’t think so. “That’s why the cock cage in the first place,” he said, and promptly remembered that his key was still at the apartment. _ Fuck. _ He shook it off, he’d deal with it when he needed to. “First ten years mandatory, later at the discretion of the owner, and Ty…” He failed to control his sneer. “He asked for the Oversee Committee to add a lifelong but the ruling was another ten.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess.”

“An Oversee Committee?” The gray in Steve’s face was gradually being replaced by blotchy red.

Tony thought he looked as if he wanted to violently murder someone. It felt oddly gratifying. He cleared his throat and said, “The one that oversees all the sales in the US. Anyway… To make it short…” It was still somewhat difficult to say. “Officially, there was a boating accident from which I never returned.” He flashed Steve a fake grin. “I’m pretty sure my then-girlfriend was paid off to sedate me and lure into the yacht’s storage room.”

The mug in Steve’s hand shattered and they both flinched.

“Shit!” Tony got up to grab a towel. “Did you hurt yourself? Is there blood?”

“No, it’s okay. I've had worse.”

There was surprisingly little blood. It was as if Steve’s skin was stronger than ceramic shards. With a smile, Tony cleaned up what little there was.

"It's fine Tony, you don't need to fuss."

Tony was still holding onto his hand when he answered.

"Doesn't mean you don't need to be taken care of too."

Steve was looking at him as if it was a revelation. As if unsure what to say, Steve's lips parted but no sound came. Tony couldn't help it, he leaned over, and gently, carefully pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve let him.

  


It had been several hours since they’d eaten sandwiches (and kissed) and Tony felt rather hungry. He wasn’t very well versed in the art of cooking but there was a lot of prepackaged stuff and the instructions were all quite clear. He ate and thought of how he should go about waking a man who had not half a day ago been his Owner.

Kissing under these circumstances had been crazy. Irresponsible even. What had Steve thought?

Better not to wake him. Tony would eat and go to his room and-

Go on as if nothing had changed._ Jesus. _

Thankfully, he didn’t need to figure out what would be the smart thing to do. Tony wasn’t even halfway through his food when Steve appeared in the doorway. He hesitated for a second as if unsure of what to say.

“Canned stew,” Tony interrupted his uncertainty. “There’s some still in the pot if you want.”

“Thanks.” Steve nodded, obviously relieved about not having to say anything about what had transpired just a short time ago.

It was fine.

  


“So what did you do to make an entire SHIELD raid your apartment?” Tony finally asked as they were finishing their late breakfast. “I think I should know if you want my input in making plans.” He cursed himself for using the conditional structure only a moment later but Steve didn’t seem to question his right to the information.

“We were evacuating civilians out of a town in Serbia,” Steve started. “There was a flood - and one tunnel seemed to be caved in. I went to check it out and discovered that it was connected to another one. It was full of people and I was just about to shout for help but the moment they saw me, they started running. Scared, in panic and I…” Steve swallowed, as he put his mug down on the table. “It was clear that they weren’t scared of me but of the uniform. It didn’t take a genius to realize these were slaves. Their clothes - overalls of the same make - were tattered, faces pale. All of them thin as bean poles.” He shook his head, as if still shocked at what he’d seen. “Then suddenly there was a man there, cocking a bow at me and I realized that it had to be Hawkeye. He didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either. The slaves fled.”

“You keep using the word ‘slave’. Why?” Tony leaned back in his chair and glared at Steve. “Sorry, if it sounds like an accusation but you must agree that it’s unusual.”

Steve stared at the mug in his hand. “There’s a reason for that.” He hesitated.

“Nevermind,” Tony said, already sensing where this was going. “Finish the story.”

Steve nodded. “Long story short, I killed a SHIELD agent to help them get away. Was seen doing it.”

_ Jesus. _

“Not your first kill though?”

Steve was silent for so long that Tony stood and started clearing off the table. He could guess why Steve might not want to answer. Just as he’d turned on the water, he heard a quiet 'no'.

Tony nodded. "I'm sorry." There was nothing to add to that and he didn't feel the need to let Steve wallow in it, so he went on, "We need documents. Do you have cash?"

"Not much, but I don't think it's going to be a problem.” Steve stood to help with drying the dishes. “Black Widow told me to sit tight and wait. She promised to get you documents too.”

“Black Widow?” Tony had to pause. “How exactly had that come about?”

Steve flashed him a grin. “Remember Agent Romanoff?”

Tony blinked. “The red-headed menace we were trying to convince you were _ not _ an Avenger-sympathiser?”

“Yeah, seems stupid now, I know.” He hung the towel to dry and crossed his arms on his chest in a mostly relaxed way. “Well, she didn’t say she was the Black Widow but the moment she caught me in the woods to give me this address, I realized. Red hair, the height and build. She must be, right?”

“Let’s hope so.” Tony dried his hands and walked out to the living room. “Otherwise we’ve just fallen into an elaborate trap.”

“Yeah, but what would be the point?” Steve followed him and they sat onto the sofa. “She gave me her motorcycle to get away.”

Thinking it over, Tony had to agree. “Sit tight for how long?”

“No idea.”

The fact that an actual Avenger was involved, changed the picture. It wasn’t just trying to find the mythical Triskelion where all the slaves were supposed to be safe like in a fairy tale, but they could actually join the fight and make a difference. They had resources now. Also-

“You’re not a regular human are you,” Tony said, not really asking.

Now, Steve flinched. “I’m just a man.” He sounded angry and defensive and Tony dropped it. They both knew that Steve was the strongest, fastest, the most superior fighter Tony had ever seen but maybe that was a story for another time. After all, Tony also had plenty of his own secrets.

  


Some days into their arrival, Tony had bought a cheap phone and discovered that they had a Wi-Fi called 'licking' the password to which turned out to be 'feet'. So now they could watch the news and laugh at the stupid wanted photos that neither of them resembled too much anymore. Steve’s dyed hair and a beard made him nearly unrecognizable. Especially since he learned to move hunched down with shorter steps. Tony's picture looked like any other runaway dark-haired slave, maybe with slightly larger eyes than average. Tony straightened his posture and smirked at people who dared to look at him.

In the pictures, all the Avengers were masked with one exception. Why they even showed these was anybody's guess. What it did to Tony was give hope. He bet that many other people felt that way too.

“Do you think it’s true what they are saying?” Steve asked him one evening. “That the Avengers are all vicious killers?”

Tony could hear it in Steve’s voice; the doubt whether they were doing the right thing. He shrugged casually as if it didn’t matter.

“The official version is that they all murdered their Owners in cold blood and went on killing without remorse any living creature despite their dependence status.” He glanced at Steve who was looking at him expectantly as if he knew that dependents had always more information than what the public knew. “The slave wine says that the Wasp is actually an ex-Owner and that’s why she never wears a mask - she wants everyone to know. Giant-Man is said to be a free scientist who designed and built a Triskelion. About others no one knows exactly, which probably means that they were slaves at some point.”

“They never say on the news but do you know who’s their leader?”

Tony shook his head. “Not sure. There’s only been limited footage on TV, could be Black Widow or Thor. Probably not Hawkeye, he’s their sniper.”

“With a bow and arrow?” The skepticism in his tone was barely there but Tony knew him enough to notice.

“Ridiculous, I know. But they list him just as dangerous as the others, so I assume he is.”

They always chose the worst photos of the criminals to show, but even with scowls and grim looks, Avengers looked formidable to Tony; and not only in terms of being dangerous. What Tony saw when he looked at the wanted posters was the future, and for the first time in a long time, when he caught Steve's eyes, he felt that that future included him. 

  


Living in a safe house got old very fast. Every day, Tony went out and got them papers and food, sometimes Steve came with, but since he was a rather large man, he mostly stayed inside and waited for the beard to grow in. And just like at the beginning of their cohabitation, he exercised a lot. When Steve started to leave the house more, things got weird. Sometimes Steve brought home flowers. Nipped them in the park, it looked like. Sometimes it was candy. Most of the time he brought cheap chocolate but always bitter, so that was good. Once he brought a bug-eyed plush puppy and said it had reminded him of Tony.

Very flattering.

Tony would’ve called him out on it but one evening, a week after their kiss, Steve upped the stakes. They’d been sitting on the sofa watching TV and when it ended, Steve simply leaned over the gap between them and kissed Tony. The first time it happened, it was brief and Tony didn’t even have time to respond before Steve pulled away, flashed him a brief smile and stood.

“Goodnight, Tony,” he’d said, leaving quickly.

What the hell?

Steve avoided Tony in the morning. When he finally appeared in the doorway after a grocery run, Tony opened his mouth to confront Steve, but the man derailed him by shoving three short tree branches full of white blossoms at him.

“Find them a vase, yeah?”

Tony stared at the tree cuts, stupefied. “Did you just raid an orchard?” he asked incredulously.

Steve grinned unrepentantly and went to the kitchen to put the produce away.

  


Tony had no idea what any of that meant. Surely, it wasn’t meant to seduce him? Steve kept kissing him every night before bed but they never moved beyond that. Like virgins after a date, only neither of them was, so it didn’t make sense.

The longer the make-out session got, the worse the pain in Tony’s dick became but he refused to do anything about it even when it got unbearable. If he did, Steve would know how much he was affecting Tony and he couldn’t even bear the thought. Was Steve doing this on purpose? Getting him hot and bothered only to stop, smile and say goodnight? Was Steve a sadist after all? That didn’t feel right.

Little by little Tony felt dropping deeper and deeper into dependence. _ In love,_ one might say, but being in love was fleeting and this felt different. It didn’t have much to do with physical sensations, cock cage or no cock cage. This was something else. What did people call it when even though your well-being was irrevocably tied to another’s, you also knew that it was worth it even if they didn't feel the same? That a mere respect for that person would make it last for years uncharted?

Perhaps, it didn't matter what he called it. It wasn’t as if he could ever tell Steve anyway.

But every night, he could show him.

  


The news went more and more ridiculous. Tony was an armed killer and Steve… That… actually made sense and Tony felt stupid that he hadn’t connected the dots himself. Thank fuck, Tony was alone while watching the program. Steve would soon be home but until then, Tony could pace and worry.

_ Shit. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Damn it all to hell. _

For the reasons Tony decided not to acknowledge, it was also disappointing. He paced for a while, then stopped. Stared at the floor. He was so out of his league, it wasn’t even funny. Tony shook himself and went into the garage where an old radio was sitting on a workbench. It wasn’t at all a challenge to take it apart but it was something to do at least. After playing around with it, he returned into the house and closed himself in the bedroom to code. An AI would probably still come in handy.

If he was lucky, Ste… Steve wouldn’t want to talk to him in a while.

A knock woke him from his coding fugue sooner than he liked. He raised his head and listened. The second knock came faster; Steve was probably worried.

“Yeah?” he called out.

“I brought dinner, you coming?” Steve asked through the closed door.

“Sure,” Tony replied with a sigh. The sound of retreating footsteps did not make Tony feel better. “Right.” Getting it over with it was.

  


“Everything alright?” Steve replied when Tony displayed an utter lack of interest in small talk.

Tony was quiet for a moment longer. He took a deep breath, and barely believing what he was about to suggest, said, "You’re Captain America, aren't you?”

Steve froze for a moment but then continued to stir the sugar in his tea. “How do you figure that?”

“You haven’t seen the news then? Captain America is an escaped slave now. They showed the footage."

Steve nodded but not as if in agreement but as an acknowledgment.

"They are saying that Captain America was a volunteer slave that let them do experiments on him in exchange for the status of an independent,” Tony went on. “But then turned on the state by killing several SHIELD agents."

Steve stilled. Then after a long moment nodded again, raised his head and looked straight at Tony. “It’s not true. I didn’t lie before, I only killed one.” He looked away. “Not that it matters in the end, blood spilled is blood spilled but they are making me look worse than it is.”

In a measured movement, Tony put his spoon on the table. “You are not denying your identity then?”

Steve shook his head. “I was born a slave, they are not lying about that.”

“Widow, agent Romanoff, knows, doesn’t she? That's why the safehouse, that's why everything,” Tony stated.

Tony would have nothing to contribute in comparison. But that wasn’t why a bitter disappointment threatened to overwhelm him. Didn't matter. He pushed it down. It didn’t matter that even though they were both criminals now, they were still nowhere near equal. In the eye of the law maybe, but in reality...

Mentally, he closed the door to any romantic notions his heart might've secretly harbored and moved on.

“Anything else they are lying about?” he asked just to have something else to think about. “You really crazy enough to volunteer for an experimental treatment?”

Steve hesitated. “I just wanted to fight," he said. "There was a war going on and my mom had just died. I didn't have much at that point and fighting for what's right seemed to be like a thing to do." He paused. "They said that they were going to free slaves, you know. After they killed the nazis. The plan was to abolish slavery. Somehow that's not in any history books anymore but that was what people kept saying back then. The politicians. Not all of them, but there were debates. I'm not sure what happened with all that. I guess, they chickened out. The ones who weren't killed were paid off. I don't know."

Tony was frowning. "What are you talking about? You don't mean the Second World War, do you?"

“My mother was a seamstress,” Steve went on as if Tony hadn’t interrupted, “and later a nurse, when it turned out she had an affinity to it. My father was a soldier. He was sold off when I was small and died not long after during an escape.”

"The original Captain America wasn't a slave," Tony objected, just to disagree with something. It was too monumental for him to just roll over and _ believe. _

Just as before, Steve ignored him.

"From the moment I was defrosted, they made it clear that if I want to walk out of their lab a free man, I had to accept the future as it is, to just… let it all be.” Steve fell silent. His face was grim but with a shock, Tony realized that he also looked ashamed. “Any talk of abolition would result in capital punishment and I didn't even know there were Avengers back then. They told me I should get out there, go to therapy, buy a pleasure companion... Try to look normal... But I thought… it was all _wrong_ but I wanted to... I wanted to die in a way that would be more useful than that.”

Tony was speechless.

Unbidden, he stood, took three steps to a sitting Steve and hugged him. For a second, Steve stiffened, but then he lifted his arms, put them around Tony’s waist and buried his head into his stomach. His heart soaring in happiness and aching in sympathy and longing, Tony hugged him tighter.

Tony waited. He wanted to do more, to put Steve into bed, to make love to him, or just sleep. To let him go and keep holding. He wanted to be wanted, not be a prop for a cuddle. He wanted-

Steve’s shoulders jerked and Tony would’ve let him go if he hadn’t been held in an iron grip. Then again. Steve’s whole body went stiff with an undercurrent of vibration as if… Tony raised his hand and slid his fingers through Steve’s hair.

The dam broke. Steve was crying. Deep heaving gasps and wet sobs were wrecking his powerful body, making him look deceptively vulnerable and helpless.

Tony wished, he could do something to actually help. “It’s okay,” he kept saying stupidly, “it’s going to be okay, Steve.”

Very soon, Steve stopped, pulled away and stood up to blow his nose at the sink. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said after a bit.

He sounded closed off and Tony’s heart sank.

“You didn’t,” Tony said just as dully.

Steve turned the water off and just stood there for a minute, not moving, and Tony felt a Great Wall of China being erected between through this silence. Displaying emotions, being vulnerable in front of Tony was not something Steve Rogers could do, apparently. It was fine. Tony understood why he wouldn’t merit the trust. The silence dragged on and Tony couldn’t let it stand. Even if Steve would never truly trust him, he was determined to shatter that wall.

“My name is Tony Stark,” he said determinately. Even if Steve wouldn’t trust him, Tony knew with absolute certainty that he could trust Steve. “Anthony Edward Stark, to be precise. And now, I'm going to kiss you all better. Got it?”

His eyes startled, Steve turned around, swallowed some unnamed emotion and nodded.

Relieved, Tony stepped closer, lifted his chin and grabbed the back of Steve’s head with both hands. _ Enough pussy-footing, _ he thought and smashed their lips together. This kiss wasn’t gentle at all, but Steve’s mouth went pliant immediately, and Tony couldn’t help but take the reigns.

For the first time ever, they felt equal.

Soon, the kiss turned brutal and Tony took what he wanted. He’d not kissed like that in ages, not since… He relocated into Steve’s lap and gripping his short hair the best he could, his other hand roaming the hard muscles under the baggy clothes. He bucked his hips against Steve’s and it felt glorious but not enough.

He pulled away.

“Shit.” His eyes closed, he leaned his forehead to Steve’s and listened to them both pant. “Can’t,” he said in a harsh whisper. “If you want it, you’ll have to wait,” he added viciously.

He pulled away and looked Steve in the eye, waiting to see anger or indignation there but seeing nothing but blown pupils and a stupified desire. The aroused heat stabbed Tony in the gut and he dived in for another forceful kiss. It was supposed to be short, just to see if Tony had read it right, but Steve mewled and Tony couldn’t stop for a bit more. His hands roamed Steve’s body, purposefully hard and pinching, tearing at the clothes, yet not removing anything. Steve let it happen and sat still. His hands were carefully clutching at Tony’s hips, not moving at all.

Time lost its meaning.

The unbearable pain in Tony's dick was nothing unusual, but at some point, it started interrupting with his pleasure, so he pulled away.

“Jesus fuck, Steve,” Tony whispered, slowly getting off Steve’s lap. “You’re too sweet.”

Steve smiled at him, dazed and breathless. “Tony.”

A surge of heat ran through Tony followed by mindless triumph. This couldn’t, _ shouldn’t _ be happening, but there Steve was; eyes burning with need.

“Tony,” Steve repeated again as if this was new information or maybe the only relevant information.

The triumph morphed into something softer, giddy almost, and Tony felt a tender grin taking over his face. “Go take a shower,” he told Steve gently, stroking his hair. “You’re filthy.”

Steve smiled. “Okay.”

It was the word Tony had expected but the way Steve said it, it sounded like 'yes sir' and Tony’s breath hitched at hearing it. He stepped away from the chair.

“And don’t even think about touching yourself,” he added, his tone forbidding to a degree he couldn’t believe himself.

Steve shivered. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Okay.”

Eyes still locked on Tony's as if in a thrall, Steve stood and suddenly they were standing close. Too close. Steve towered over Tony, but it didn’t feel threatening; even trapped in the bright blue ocean of want, he felt powerful.

Then, after an indescribable amount of time, Tony stepped aside, put his palm on Steve’s chest to nudge him and swallowing heavily, Steve went.

He was almost out the door when Tony remembered-

“Oh and don’t touch the stubble!”

A startled laugh sounded from behind the doorway and Tony was so utterly fucked.

And that was fine.

_ Shit. _

Hearing the bathroom door close, startled him into action. Quickly, he rummaged all the drawers for tools. Any tools. Ran into the garage and found only a general set of large tools for-

There.

Forcing the lock took a few minutes, but then it was off and then came the hard part. Literally. Removing the cage from around an erect penis was a painful matter, but the pain and unsexy thoughts helped.

When he returned to the house, Steve was already out, fresh, warm, dripping and with anticipation written all over his face. The towel was only slightly tented at first but the longer Tony watched, the bigger it got. Tony felt his own dick respond the same way and it felt glorious. Unashamedly, he put his hand on it and not breaking eye contact with Steve, rubbed himself through his pants.

He took a step closer but stopped. “Come here.” Tony’s voice was hoarse. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so aroused in his life.

Steve came. Tony kissed him, slowly removed the towel and caressed Steve’s hip bones, the flanks, the thighs and left his hands on the firm, round butt cheeks.

Steve moaned.

“Bed,” Tony said, and somehow they went, half-blind and bumbling, stumbling over the threshold and falling down the queen-sized that was apparently more than enough for two grown-up men who were entangled on top of each other. “Clothes,” he growled and somehow that, too, became an order.

Steve undressed him, his hands sure and steady but his eyes were hungry; flitting all over as if he had no idea where to look - as if all he saw was a feast.

“Scoot back,” Tony said when he was naked and this order wasn’t questioned either.

Almost drunk on power, Tony straddled Steve’s thighs, took his hands by the wrists and placed them on the pillow beside his head. Tony leaned down, and keeping his lips just hairbreadth away from Steve’s, said, “Hold them here.”

Steve bit off a noise and Tony smirked. He started with kissing at the edge of the chiseled jaw, moved down the neck. When he reached the junction at the shoulder, he sucked. Steve’s fingers twitched beside his head and when Tony started playing with his nipples, Steve shivered. Tony grinned, stroked his hands down the beautiful torso and peppered him Steve with little kisses.

The cock, when Tony took it into his mouth, felt like a nectar from the gods and he took his time licking and tasting it. Steve’s responsiveness was amazing and Tony enjoyed drawing all sorts of reactions from him.

“Please,” Steve begged, his hands were fisted, holding onto the pillow that he was twisting his face into. “Please, Tony. Can you…? Just… Please?”

“Please what, beautiful?”

Unbelievably, Steve blushed even more scarlet and squirmed. “I-I… Ple-” he cut himself off, seemingly in frustration at being unable to articulate his need and Tony looked on, mesmerized, amazed, in awe.

“God, Steve, you are truly gorgeous like this, I…”

Now it was his turn to trail off because whatever he felt couldn’t be put into words; it was too soon, too strange, too… wrong. Why would Steve even want to know how Tony felt?

“You want to grab onto the headboard, sweetheart?” he asked instead.

Seemingly relieved that he could act, could do at least something, Steve did. He took hold of the upper metal rung and-

“Whoah!” Tony scrambled to stroke Steve’s hands into relaxing their death grip. “That’s some weak metal! Be careful with that super grip of yours, darling. Don’t wreck the bed.”

“Sorry,” Steve seemed embarrassed, but when Tony brushed over his groin, his hips bucked, almost coming in contact with Tony’s.

“It’s okay,” Tony said, soothingly. “You’re fine.”

He slid his hands back on Steve’s hips, leaned down and enveloped Steve’s cock with his mouth while rubbing himself off between his legs. No one was there to tell him no. No one would tell Tony no ever again, he vowed as he pulled at his cock and leisurely mouthing at Steve’s, finished himself off. When he came, Steve was pressing his pelvis up again and a high whine-like noise was coming out of his mouth.

“Steve,” Tony uttered with pleasure, as he was coming down. “My gorgeous, beautiful Steve.”

Steve’s body trembled, the metal creaked again, before he hurriedly relaxed his grip and Tony sighed contentedly. Then, unhurriedly, he raised himself back onto the elbows, took Steve into his mouth and started sucking.

Almost immediately, Steve was close. Tony eased the pressure up, slid almost off the cock and then squeezing his fingers around the base, took as much into his mouth as he could. Tony’s name on Steve’s lips sounded heavenly and Tony was delighted; he played around with speed and pressure and when Steve’s please were peppered with whimpers and Tony slid off of him with a plop.

Unable to help it and grinning like a fool, he asked, "You good there, soldier? Holding on?"

"Shit, Tony! Please!" He raised his head and looked pleadingly at Tony. "I'm so close, Tony, please!"

Tony smirked while stroking Steve's stomach.

Steve shuddered. “Please,” he uttered quietly, desperately, and gripping the shaft hard, Tony gave it a nice wide lick from the base to the tip.

"Please," Steve repeated in a wrecked voice and Tony gave in; he took the cock back into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

Steve was beautiful when he came and Tony thought how ironic it was that now that he didn’t have to, he felt ready to give everything he had for another man’s happiness.

Tony knew he was probably setting himself up for heartbreak, but if sex was all he was going to get, he was taking also cuddles until thrown out of the bed. He climbed higher on the bed, towards the headboard and spooned Steve from behind. Steve shifted but didn’t shove him away. Good. For a moment, Tony relaxed but Steve’s body wasn’t as pliant as one would expect after a spectacular orgasm and there was tension in the air.

Of course.

Mentally cringing in embarrassment and his heart aching, Tony started to pull away.

“Don’t leave.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t sleepy either. He sounded rather on full alert and cautious and that made Tony feel on edge too.

“What?”

“Don't leave,” Steve repeated more quietly. “If it’s just sex that you want, that’s okay, I understand. And you don’t have to cuddle or give me flowers or anything, but I just wanted to…”

Tony could barely breathe - what was Steve saying? What did he want? Tony’s head was full of noise and nothing made sense. “What?” he repeated stupidly because Steve definitely couldn’t be saying what Tony thought he was saying.

“I just mean - don’t leave, okay? I know that I bought you and kept you like a pet and… I know I’m an awful person for making you- for making you… do the things no one should do under those circumstances, but I… They told me to get a slave and- Oh god, it’s not making it any better!”

Almost violently, Steve sat up and turning slightly away from Tony, buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tony, for what you’ve been through and for what _ I’ve _ put you through. I-” he cut himself off again, raised his head and looked at Tony who’s also sat up just to feel a bit taller next to the giant of a man that Steve was. “I’m sorry,” Steve repeated, this time looking Tony in the eye as if his life depended on whether Tony believed him or not. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you; all the pain and the humiliation. I… I had no idea what I was doing when I bought you and I’ll understand if… If after we get to Triskelion you’ll want nothing to do with me, but I’m…” He took a deep breath and continued, visibly steeping himself. “I’m in love with you, Tony. I am. I know you probably don’t believe me or maybe just don’t care, but I’m begging you to give me a chance to prove it. Just…”

“Shut up.”

Steve did. He closed his eyes and hanging his head, nodded.

The desperate yearning in Tony’s heart was slowly growing through with wines of joy and relief and his lips started to turn up. “You brought me flowers.”

Bewildered, Steve's eyes snapped to Tony's. He frowned. “Yes?”

Tony grinned.

“Come here,” he said and leaned up to touch his grinning lips to Steve’s.

He was still a fool but in this, they were equal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Phew! :)  
Thank you everyone who made it this far with me! It was a difficult story to write for me, but you, my loyal readers, kept me going.  
So thank you all for every bit of the support; those who read, kudosed and especially those who managed to comment nearly every time! <3 <3 <3
> 
> (BTW, I'm participating in MTH this year. Will write what a reader wants, exciting, right? -> marveltrumpshate.tumblt.com) ;)


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